Brothers in Arms
by 3rdgal
Summary: An old friend shows up unannounced, creating tension between the Eppes brothers. Can they work through it before tragedy strikes? Thanks to L. Burke for helping me with the upload problem!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** Thanks as always to ritt, the world's best beta and sounding board (and title giver)! This story is going slower than most so the updates will be slower. I normally try for one a day but this one will probably be more like one or two a week. I promise the rest of the chapters won't be this short.

It was a perfect night on the cozy CalSci campus – the starry sky was crystal clear and the temperature was warm and inviting. Most of the students had already left campus to get a jump on their weekend, leaving behind deserted walkways, benches and common areas. The majority of the school's buildings were dark, closed up until Monday morning, but one still emitted a warm, yellowish glow as two men inside an office consulted a series of blackboards. Another man stood in a cluster of trees a few hundred feet from the office window, closely watching the two occupants through his scope. He increased the magnification and leaned against one of the trees as he observed, quite comfortable to wait as long as it took for his target to come out in the open.

The target was the younger of the office occupants, a student by the name of Grayson Holloway. His lean frame sported a head full of blond curls and a pale, freckled complexion. He dressed casually in a pair of worn jeans and a gray windbreaker that hung open to reveal a black tee shirt from a heavy metal concert. To the casual observer he could be any young student from the suburbs trying to get an education at a prestigious school, but the man behind the scope knew differently. He knew about Holloway's background, could see it in the lines around the young man's eyes and mouth which spoke of a hard, stressful past – one that was about to catch up to him in a bad way.

The student's companion – a professor whose identity was well known to the observer – made one last notation on the chalkboard before stepping back and nodding. He clapped the blond on the shoulder and closed his laptop, seemingly ending the after-hours session. Holloway waved good night and exited the office, disappearing into the heart of the building.

_Showtime,_ the man concealed in the trees thought as he pocketed his scope and moved closer to the building's main door, making sure to stay hidden in the shadows. Within minutes the lean student exited the building, trotting down the stairs and moving down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. His observer had no problem matching his stride while still remaining concealed in the darkness.

The target turned into a small alley and the man waited a moment to keep some distance between them before following Holloway's path. As he entered the alley, he was shocked to see that he had lost a visual on the blond. His senses went on high alert and he instinctually reached for the handgun he kept on his hip as he scanned the shadows of the deserted area in front of him. He was still pondering what could have happened when he heard a loud noise and felt a sharp pain burrow into the back of his shoulder.

_Damn,_ he thought as he fell. _How'd the kid get behind me?_ He weakly tried to roll over but something slammed into the side of his head, making stars dance in front of his eyes. Lights flooded the area around him as concerned neighbors checked out the source of the noise and he heard footsteps running away, fading into the distance.

He tried to push himself up off the pavement but his head swam and he crumpled back to the cool asphalt. A stranger's voice told him to hold on, that help was coming, but he was already starting to give in to the darkness creeping up on him.

Billy Cooper's last conscious thought was that he would have a lot of explaining to do when Don Eppes found out his old partner had been on the CalSci campus, spying on his brother's office and tracking a fugitive without even giving him a heads-up.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Don climbed off the hospital elevator and made a stop at the nurse's station. "Billy Cooper?" he inquired of a heavyset, gray-haired nurse.

"Room 462," she said, barely looking up from her computer.

Don nodded his thanks and started off down the hallway, smiling as he dodged an elderly patient in a wheelchair. He arrived at the room prepared to knock but found the door thrown wide open, his friend perched on the edge of the bed and staring at the door.

"About time," Coop said by way of greeting. "You really drive that slow now that you're settled down?"

"Hey," Don said with a teasing grin. "Most people you know would just leave your sorry butt in here. See what a good friend I am?"

"Good friend," Coop snorted. "I just have enough dirt on you that you have to come."

"Whatever." Don leaned over and gave the man a brief hug, careful of his injured shoulder. "Seriously, you doing okay?"

"Just a scratch."

"They give slings out for scratches now?"

"You going all mother hen on me? Settled life must really agree with you."

"It does," Don nodded. "I wouldn't trade this for the world."

"I'm glad for you, man. I really am. I do miss being on the road with you, though."

"Is that why you came out to LA? Because you didn't have to get yourself shot just to see me."

"You always were a comedian," Billy said as he shook his head. "I was trailing a fugitive – Sammy Holloway, or 'Sammy the Snake' as he's known to his friends."

"What's his racket?"

"Minor-league stuff growing up. Then he turned nineteen and got in way over his head – namely robbing a bank back in Missouri. He and his friend hit them up right before the courier arrived and got away with one hundred large." Coop shifted his arm, wincing at the pull on his injured joint. "Their getaway car was parked a few feet away from the ATM so the Feds got make, model, color and a partial plate. Easy as pie to track him down and arrest him. Of course, when they got there he and his friend didn't have the money. They were convicted anyway and sentenced to ten years in the Federal penitentiary in Springfield."

"I take it that didn't sit too well?"

"It sat just fine for six years until Holloway's friend got shanked in prison. I guess Sammy thought that time off for good behavior wouldn't do anything for him if he was dead. He managed to sweet talk a nurse into saying he needed major treatment for a malignant tumor and next thing you know, he's slipping out of the hospital and back in the throngs of decent society."

"And he came here?" Don asked.

"Yeah. See he had this younger brother – Grayson – who the feds long suspected had a part in the robbery. They were pretty sure he was in the getaway car but the ATM footage was too fuzzy to verify that. Even if he wasn't involved in the robbery itself, it was almost a given that Sammy had him hide the cash."

"So Sammy gets out and wants his money," Don mused aloud. "Has to find his brother."

"Who, it just so happens, is a student at a college here in southern California. Once I found that out I got here as quickly as I could to set up shop and wait."

"Looks like he found you first," Don remarked dryly.

"Might have been Sammy who shot me but I was trailing Grayson. I followed him to an alley and lost him and next thing I know…" Coop nodded at his shoulder. "Little brother may know big brother's coming – be looking forward to the reunion."

"Definite possibility," Don agreed. His old partner shifted on the bed, wincing again but this time with a guilty look on his face. "What?"

"You're going to hate me for this, man, but…" The redhead looked up and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "Grayson Holloway is a student at CalSci."

"CalSci?" the other agent echoed, dumbfounded. "Why didn't you call me? Charlie could have-"

"He's a promising _math_ major at CalSci."

"_What?_"

"His advisor is one Professor Charles Eppes," Coop hurried the words from his mouth. "That's whose office he was in before I trailed him away from campus."

"Damn it, Coop! What the hell were you thinking?" Don stormed away from his friend's side, only to turn and rush back toward him. "My brother was in _danger_ and you didn't bother to let me know? For God's sake, Coop – Charlie could have _helped_ you!"

"I didn't think that was a great idea," the injured man quietly stated.

"Why on earth not?"

"Back when we were working together, remember how you talked about Charlie? You said he was always there for his students, no matter what. That he'd do anything for them. Said you'd never seen him that loyal to anyone… not even his brother." Coop fixed his friend with a pointed look until Don finally stepped back and shook his head.

Don tucked the bad memories that his former partner's words brought up back into their box, not wanting to relive the jealous thoughts he'd had all those years ago. "Charlie would never knowingly help a fugitive," he insisted. "Or obstruct an investigation."

"Maybe he wouldn't," Billy said. "But I couldn't take that chance."

"And now?" Don demanded. "If Grayson was anywhere nearby when you got shot – or if he's the one who pulled the trigger – he's probably gone into hiding. Especially if he knows his big brother's looking for him."

"I know," Coop reluctantly admitted. "My job just got a whole lot harder."

"Maybe not," Don suggested quietly. "Let me talk to Charlie – ask him what he knows about his student." Seeing the look of hesitance on his friend's face, he gave a shrug. "Holloway's probably gone to ground by now – what harm could it do to talk to Charlie?"

Billy nodded as he stood up from the bed. "Fine. Just let me get my things."

"No." Don placed a hand on his friend's good shoulder and pressed him back down. "You need to rest. Besides, I'd rather you not talk to Charlie given how you think of him."

"Fair enough. But I expect to hear everything you find out."

"Deal," Don said, pasting a small smile on his face. "I'll be back in a while."

--

Charlie's hand flew across his chalkboard, the sounds of his writing oddly in tune with the sounds emitting from his iPod. It was a good day for cognitive emergence and he intended to capture every last idea that had manifested itself in his brain. He'd been at it for hours – the five full boards around him a testament to his work – when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him so badly that he broke the chalk as he whipped around.

"Don!" he cried, part relieved and part angry. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I did!" Don yelled as he yanked the wires leading to his brother's ears. "Maybe you shouldn't have the volume so loud, huh?"

Charlie blushed as he realized he could still hear the music blaring from his iPod even though his earbuds were dangling at waist level. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"No problem."

He turned the power off and tucked the device into his desk drawer before focusing on Don. "So, what's up? Need help on a case?"

"Sort of. I mean, yeah, but…" Don shook his head in frustration. "What I need from you is personal, Buddy."

"I don't understand."

Don sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he gestured for his brother to sit. "I need to ask you about one of your students."

"You think one of my students is involved in something?"

The agent leaned against the desk and shook his head. "Don't jump to conclusions on me, Charlie. Just humor me and answer my questions one at a time."

"Fine," Charlie said, his expression slightly wounded.

"Grayson Holloway – how well do you know him?"

"He's one of my best students," the professor bragged. "Top in his class, a real understanding of how it all works. Brilliant mind."

"Personal life?"

"To be honest he doesn't talk about that much. I know he's from the Midwest somewhere. He came here to learn but I suspect home life wasn't a picnic for him." Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking about him?"

"One at a time," Don reminded the younger man. "Has he started acting strangely lately?"

"Not at all. In fact he has a better head on his shoulders than any other student I've seen. It's like he's already outgrown those annoying 'young adult' growing pains."

"Has he ever mentioned his past at all? Family, friends?"

Charlie shook his head and gave Don a puzzled look. "Like I said – he doesn't talk much about his past. Really, Don – what's this all about?"

"How's his lifestyle – does he ever seem to be living beyond his means?"

"He works a full time and part time job in addition to classes," the professor informed his brother, his patience at the other man's deliberate vagueness starting to wear thin. "And he still wears threadbare clothes and brings his lunch to school."

"School," Don repeated thoughtfully. "How does he afford to attend CalSci?"

"He's on scholarship," Charlie angrily spat. "Look, I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me what's going on."

"Charlie-"

"I mean it, Don." Sensing that the older man wasn't going to give an explanation, Charlie started to turn to his chalkboard.

"His brother's an escaped fugitive."

The professor whipped around, his eyebrows raised. "He's a… are you sure?"

"Yes. His name is Sammy Holloway and we're pretty sure he's headed this way."

"Wait a minute… you don't work fugitive recovery any more. Why are you involved?"

"One of the Holloway brothers – we don't know which – put a bullet in Coop the other night."

"Oh my God," Charlie whispered. "Is he all right?"

"He's going to be fine," Don assured the younger man. "He was shot about three blocks away from here – following Grayson home after a late-night meeting with you."

"What? Why didn't you tell me you were watching him?"

"I didn't know-"

"If you could trust me to keep my mouth shut," Charlie cut him off, fury blazing in his brown eyes. "You thought I'd let something spill? For God's sake – I have top security clearance!"

"Charlie, listen to me-"

"I've listened to you about all I can stand," the professor hissed. "I don't really want to hear anything you have to say."

Don threw up his hands in frustration and shook his head. "Maybe Coop was right after all."

"What's that mean?"

"He said he didn't come to you because he didn't think you would be very helpful."

"And your excuse?"

"You know what? That's not even important right now." He leaned forward until his face was inches from his brother's. "Like it or not you need to listen to me very carefully. If Grayson is involved he's probably on the run already but there is a chance that he might want to talk to you before he leaves."

"About?"

"I don't know, Charlie. He's your student – not mine. But if he does try to contact you, I expect you to let me know and _not_ to let him know we had this conversation. Am I making myself clear?"

"I'm not an idiot, Don."

"I'm well aware of that," the agent shot back, the hurt in his voice almost enough to make Charlie feel guilty for the harshness of his words. "I'll be working on this case with Coop until we get Sammy or he leaves the LA area. I'd prefer that you work from home the next couple of days but I know you won't so you'd better get used to the fact that there will be an agent posted around campus."

"Agent?"

"Yes, Charlie. I'm not going to let some punk kid or his brother get close enough to you to hurt you."

"Grayson would never-"

"I don't know that for sure. Besides, Sammy shot a Federal agent so I'm pretty sure he'd have no problem shooting a math professor."

Charlie swallowed nervously and – despite his frustration toward Don's attitude – looked into his big brother's eyes, drawing comfort from the fierce determination he saw there. "Thanks, Don."

"Anytime," Don replied as he started to leave the office. He paused at the last minute and turned to look over his shoulder. "For the record… I _didn't_ know about this until this morning. I _would_ have come to you right away, Charlie." Almost as an afterthought he added "You should know that." He disappeared from the doorway, leaving Charlie alone in his office to wonder just how big a rift he'd created between himself and his brother.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Revised. Thanks to Jels for catching my fairly glaring error with the fugitive's name from 'Manhunt'. They say the memory is the first thing to go…

"Well?"

"Can't you ever just say hello like a normal person?" Don asked Coop as he entered his hospital room that evening.

The other man raised an eyebrow but played along. "Hello, Don… Well?"

Don shook his head in frustration as he sat in the chair by his friend's bedside. "He said Grayson's a good student who lives within his means – no extra spending money – and he's convinced that the kid would never be involved in any wrongdoing."

"You think your brother's instincts are right?"

"He usually reads his students pretty well, but…" He sighed as he remembered his brother's defensive tone and shrugged. "Maybe not this one."

"You got someone keeping an eye on Charlie?" At Don's sharp look, Coop held up a hand. "To keep him safe, I mean."

"I had Megan enlist a couple of agents to rotate out at Charlie's building. They've been told to pay close attention to his classroom and office."

"Your team's not going to help us?"

Don cocked his head and gave Coop a look of disbelief. "First of all, they have three open cases that still have to be worked. Second of all… _us_? I'm more than happy to lend a hand but _you_ are not going back out into the field with only one good arm."

"These say otherwise," Coop triumphantly announced as he held up his discharge papers.

"You haven't changed a bit," Don snorted. "You're just going to keep running until you drop dead one day."

"That's the only way to live, my friend." He eased himself off the bed and grabbed a plastic bag containing his belongings. "So should I book a motel or do I get some Eppes hospitality tonight?"

"Of course you can crash at my apartment. I just… are you sure you're good to go with one arm?"

"Yes, and I'll be more than happy to prove it to you by kicking your butt if you ask me that again," Coop informed him. "Let's grab some takeout or something – I'm starving. Then we can get a list of possible locations to scope out tomorrow." He brushed by Don and into the hallway – leaving the other man to stare after him in amazement. _I can't believe I used to be like that, too,_ Don thought to himself.

"Time's a-wasting," Coop called back over his shoulder.

Don blew out a deep breath as he followed his friend. _It's going to be a long night._

An hour later Don and Coop were sprawled out in his living room, maps of LA spread across the coffee table and floor of the apartment. They'd been eating and plotting out a list of areas to check out – places Coop knew Grayson frequented as well as places an escaped felon might visit for a helping hand. A solid plan had come together and now they were winding down to get a good night's sleep before the day of hunting was upon them.

_Kind of feels like old times,_ Don thought as he remembered all the nights they had spent like this as partners – although they'd usually been holed up in sleazy motel rooms instead of a comfortable apartment.

"You've changed a lot," Coop said, breaking the companionable silence and shattering Don's reminiscent mood.

"How so?" Don inquired as he sipped his beer.

"The Don Eppes I worked with would never have handed off three open investigations to his team. You did it without even batting an eyelash." Coop flashed a cocky grin. "You miss working with me, don't you?"

The other man returned the smile. "We did have some good times but I wasn't kidding about settled life – I feel like everything is starting to come together for me. Like… well… kind of like I'm growing up."

"And I'll be a kid forever," Coop nodded with a wink. "No arguments there. Back to the original point – what gives with handing off your cases?"

"I'm not 'handing them off'," Don insisted. "I have three outstanding agents on my team and they're more than capable of handling the work without me babysitting them. Heck, Reeves is ready for her own team any day now."

"Still, the Don I knew-"

"Has grown up and developed into someone with more patience and maturity."

"Well, I suppose one of us had to grow up eventually." He held up his beer and tipped his head. "Better you than me, my friend."

Don clinked his bottle against Coop's. "To each his own."

--

"Might I ask why we're eating in absolute silence tonight?" Alan watched as his youngest son picked at his plate of food and sighed. "And I'm being generous when I say 'eating'."

Charlie set his fork down and slouched in his chair. "I just had a rough day. One of my students… never mind."

"Talk to me," his father prodded.

"One of my students has a brother who recently escaped from prison and Don seems to think he'll try to help him out."

"What do you think?"

Charlie shook his head and began moving his food around on his plate. "Grayson's a good kid, Dad. I don't see how he could ever be involved in something illegal."

"Your brother does have some pretty good instincts," Alan pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's never even met my student so how can he know what he would or wouldn't do?"

"Let me pose a question – what would you do if something happened to Don and he needed your help?"

"Don would never do anything illegal," Charlie countered.

"I didn't say he would. I'm saying if he was in trouble and needed your help – no matter what the situation – what would you do?" The professor studied his father and Alan saw realization dawn in his eyes. "So maybe Don is assuming that your student would also do anything he could to help _his_ brother."

"I guess you're right. I probably owe him an apology then – I was pretty harsh with him this afternoon."

Alan chuckled. "Don has thick skin, Charlie. But it probably would be good for him to hear the resident genius admit he was wrong."

"Very funny, Dad." The younger man closed his eyes and sighed. "I just hope Don finds the guy before Grayson has the chance to do anything stupid – assuming he hasn't already."

"Already?"

"Billy Cooper was following Grayson and lost him in an alley right before someone shot him."

"Wait a minute," Alan said as he reached out and grabbed Charlie's arm. "Billy Cooper? Don's old fugitive recovery partner?"

"Yeah." Seeing his father's look of concern tinged with anger, the professor cocked his head. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like it when your brother gets involved with him. Don's got a good head on his shoulders but every time he's around his old partner… I'm just not comfortable with the idea."

"You're not still afraid he'll discover how much he misses the thrill of the hunt and go back to it, are you?"

"Of course not," Alan said. "I know Donny's happy to be settled down here with us. But I remember how he was all those years ago when he worked with Cooper – like he was hanging out with the wrong crowd. I don't want to see him in any danger or doing something he might later regret."

"He'll be fine, Dad. He was three years ago when they went after McDowd to protect that witness."

"He came home injured."

"It was a scratch," Charlie reminded him. "Not even a bad one."

"Still… what if this time it's more than a scratch? No, Charlie – I won't feel better until I know for sure that Billy Cooper is back on the road, away from LA and Don."

--

Don lay in bed wide awake and knowing he should be getting some rest before the long day ahead, but it just wouldn't come. His mind was filled with random swirling thoughts of Coop and his old life in fugitive recovery versus his current life as a team leader in the same city as his family. He knew he'd made the right decision to come to LA but any time Coop popped back up in his life, Don always found himself reminiscing about the decisions he made throughout his career and family and wondering 'what if'.

_No, this is where I'm meant to be,_ Don told himself. _Fugitive Recovery was exciting – nothing like the thrill of the chase – but life with my family is better for me, no matter what Coop seems to think or what thoughts he manages to put in my head._

Dinner had been nice, a reminder of old times with them eating and planning out their search, but Don had been plagued by a strange feeling the entire time… perhaps guilt? Over what he wasn't sure but he was almost positive it had something to do with the disapproving looks his father had given him the last time Coop had been in town. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember his dad ever being happy to see Coop – just mildly civil when they met face to face.

_He probably holds it against him that I was on the road so much all those years. No, Dad's not like that but there is something that seems to bother him. Maybe one day I'll ask him about it. Yeah right, and watch him keel over in shock that I wanted to start a meaningful conversation. Guess it'll have to remain a mystery._

A yellow glow crept under the bedroom door and Don softly smiled. He knew Coop well enough to know that his old friend wasn't sleeping either. It had been one of the traits they shared – not being able to sleep as they got closer to catching their bad guy – and it was one of the reasons that Don had suspected they'd been such good partners. They'd always seemed to have so much in common, including a deep understanding of how the other worked – something he'd rarely had with Charlie. Heck, if he was honest with himself he still understood Coop better than Charlie, only now that didn't seem as important. He was beginning to comprehend his brother and, truth be told, enjoyed trying to unravel the little mysteries that swirled around the genius' thoughts. It was like cracking a difficult case – it took a lot of hard work and led to a lot of frustration but in the end, the reward was greater than anything else on earth.

_Good lord, Eppes, when did you turn all sentimental?_ He asked the question of himself but had to crack a smile as he distinctly heard it in Coop's voice. _Speaking of…_ No reason to let his friend stay up alone. Don climbed out of bed and pushed open the door to his room, laughing at the sight of his friend sitting fully clothed on the couch, cleaning his weapon.

Coop grinned back and raised an eyebrow. "Old habits, huh?"

"I guess so," Don chuckled as he went into the kitchen. "Since sleep is a lost cause, how about coffee?"

"Load me up."

Don prepared the cups in silence before bringing them to the living room and sitting next to his friend. He watched as Coop sipped the hot liquid, ignoring his own cup for the moment. "You really thought Charlie would help a fugitive?"

The redhead set the mug on the table in front of him and looked at his old partner. "Not a fugitive, no. A student? Without question, which would have been the problem." He studied Don as the other agent chewed on his bottom lip. "You remember how you felt about your brother back then?"

"Yeah, I do. I guess I'm just having a hard time reconciling that with how I feel about him now. I was a little bitter back then."

"I know. You have to understand though, I haven't seen you since then except for the McDowd thing and while Charlie was helpful, things still seemed a little strained between you two. I didn't know if I could trust him or if you could and I didn't want to put that burden on you."

"Well, Charlie thinks I don't trust him now."

Coop sighed and shook his head. "Oh man, I didn't mean for that to happen. I really am sorry."

Don shrugged but Coop could see the hurt in his eyes. "Our relationship consists of a bunch of ups and downs. We'll get through this like we always do, it's just that this one seems a little more down than the rest."

The redhead remained silent, prompting Don to continue.

"I would have thought he knew I trusted him by now. I mean we've been working closely together for almost five years. It just hurt that he could jump to that conclusion." Don suddenly reddened as he realized he was pouring his heart out to Billy Cooper, as macho an agent as they came. "Apparently I get sappy when I don't sleep. Not like the old days," he tried to joke.

Coop didn't take the bait, instead choosing to remain serious as well. "You know when we said goodbye that last time I thought you were crazy for wanting to settle down, but the more I stay on the move the more I think I envy you."

"You're joking."

"No," he shook his head. "All the stuff we go through as agents, the crap we see, the innocent victims… Sometimes I wish I had someone to come home and talk to."

Don swallowed deeply as his friend touched on a particularly sore spot. "It's not that great either. You feel guilty for burdening them with what you go through. Then they get hurt that you seem so cold and closed up."

"I never thought about it like that."

"I guess we both have our problems," Don chuckled sadly.

Coop raised his coffee cup. "To the most screwed-up job on earth and all the perks that come with it. May the rest of the world be glad we're the ones who get to do it."

Don clinked his mug against his friend's. "I can certainly drink to that."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"Professor Eppes."

Charlie nodded at the suit-clad man standing outside his office the next morning. "My brother sent you?"

"Agent Robert Watkins," he introduced as he shook Charlie's hand. "Call me Bob."

"How long are you stuck on babysitting duty, Bob?"

"Oh no, Professor," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "I've heard all about your consulting with the FBI. I'm happy I finally get to meet you."

Charlie's face brightened at the sincerity in the other man's words. "In that case you can call me Charlie." He unlocked the door – having locked it the previous night just to please his brother – and ushered the agent inside. "I only have one afternoon class today so I'm afraid you're in for hours of watching me work on my research."

"Hey, any day I don't get shot at or have to go after dangerous criminals is a good one." He dropped into an empty chair and smiled. "Maybe I can even learn a thing or two about math." As he watched the professor pull out a chalkboard covered in complex equations, his face creased into a frown. "Maybe not."

The younger man chuckled as he moved to a bookshelf and ran his fingers along the spines of the books. He stopped, removed a brightly-colored paperback and handed to the agent. "Kind of a lay person's guide to interesting math facts. Even Don liked that one."

"Thanks, Charlie." Bob flipped the book open and began reading the first page only to look up sharply as the professor's cell shrilled. "Who is it?" he asked as he peered over the top of his book.

"It's Don," Charlie told him. "Hey, bro."

"Take the book back."

"What?"

"Every time you spend more than an hour with one of my agents, the next thing I know they're carrying around their own copy so they can finish reading it in their spare time."

"I'm spreading a love of math," Charlie protested. "How is that bad?"

"Because he's there to watch you and keep you safe," Don shot back, frustration apparent in his voice. "How's he going to do that if he's wrapped up in a book?"

"Fine, I'll take it back."

"Thank you. I don't suppose you got any calls from Grayson last night or early this morning?"

"No," Charlie replied, quickly adding "And yes – I'd tell you if I had." He took his brother's silence as doubt and scowled. "When exactly did you stop trusting me, Don?"

"Never," the other man said. "I just… I know you'd do anything for your students. That's not normally a bad thing but in this case… I need to know that you're going to stay safe, Buddy."

His brother's obvious worry set off a wave of guilt and Charlie took a deep breath to calm himself. "I will, Don. I promise."

"Thank you. Look, Coop and I are going to check out a couple-"

"Coop?" Charlie interrupted. "I thought he'd been shot?"

"He was but they released him."

"And he's working in the field again? Don, are you sure he can watch your back?"

"He used to do it a long time ago," the agent reminded him. "And I still trust him to do so now."

"But if he's not one hundred percent…"

"Relax, Charlie. Coop's a tough guy. We'll both be fine."

"Okay," Charlie agreed, although he felt anything but easy about the whole situation. "See you tonight for dinner?"

"Depends on how the search goes. Look… I have to run but I'll check in with you later."

"Bye," Charlie said, but his brother had already disconnected. He turned to Bob and shrugged sheepishly. "Um, Don says no reading while on duty."

The agent let out a loud laugh and shook his head as he handed the book back. "That brother of yours has got some kind of sixth sense, doesn't he?"

"I sure hope so," Charlie muttered to himself.

--

"I think I remember why I quit fugitive recovery," Don sighed as he and Coop sat in his black SUV across the street from a rundown bodega.

"The ninety-nine percent boredom followed by one percent sheer…" Coop grinned widely. "Fun?"

"Have you gotten that much crazier?" Don asked as he shook his head and fought back a grin. "Or have I gotten that much saner?"

"Little of both, I imagine." The redhead peered through his scope at the entrance of the building, searching the throngs of milling gang members for the face of the small-time dealer they were after. "We're only halfway through the list. You gotta give it some time."

"Hard to be patient when I know there's even a slight chance someone might go after my brother."

"You've got one of your best agents on him, Don. Just relax and let's worry about our thing. If Hernandez doesn't show in the next twenty or so we'll go on to the next contact."

"How do you know he didn't already load up on weapons and supplies before he got to LA?"

"Sammy's not exactly a 'forward thinking' person. My money says he hauled butt out here and _then_ worried about how he was going to go about contacting his brother and getting his money."

Don raised an eyebrow as he watched two gang members get into a fist fight over a bottle of soda. "And if you're wrong?"

"Hey, I go with my gut," Coop reminded his old partner. "It's never failed me before."

Don eyed his friend's injured shoulder – the sling conspicuously absent so as not to show 'an obvious weakness'. "Except maybe in an alley a couple of nights ago?"

Coop lowered the scope and gave Don a hard look. "Somebody's cranky today. What gives, Eppes?"

"Nothing," Don shrugged, irritation written across his features. He shifted in his seat and fixed Coop with an intense look. "No, I take that back. What's bugging me is the fact that you could have come to me and we could have gone to Charlie to start with. He'd have gotten Grayson to talk to us and who knows? You might not have gotten shot and you might be on your way home now, Sammy in tow."

"I _am_ sorry I didn't come to you first, Don. I mean that. Your brother… I never could get an accurate read on him."

"Let me save you the trouble," Don snapped. "He's a good guy… a consultant for the FBI… one of _us_."

The redhead rolled his eyes and studied the bodega again. "Fine, you've made me a believer."

After an eternity of tense silence, Don blew out a deep breath. "It's been thirty minutes; he's not going to show."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Coop tucked away his scope and pulled out their list of weapons dealers. "Let's go visit Mister Albert Jolly."

--

Charlie finished writing out his class notes and powered down his laptop, looking up at Bob who was staring through the sunlit window. He grinned slightly, thinking of how boring his life might seem to someone used to so much fast-paced excitement. "Boredom setting in?"

Bob turned to him with an embarrassed look on his face. "No offense, Charlie, but… yeah – a little."

"None taken, Bob. I've consulted on enough cases for my brother to know what your life must usually be like. What say I make up for it by taking you to lunch?"

The agent frowned. "I don't know about any off-campus trips. It'd be a lot more difficult to keep an eye on everyone around us."

"How about the cafeteria then? It's really dead this late in the day but the food is usually still edible."

"With high praise like that how could I possibly say no?"

Charlie grinned. "I'll tell you what to avoid." His cell phone vibrated, indicating he'd received a text message. He flipped open his phone and frowned at the unfamiliar number. As he pulled the message up, his heart skipped a beat. He read the words a second time – and then a third – but there was no mistaking who had sent it or the desperation it conveyed.

"Charlie?"

The professor's mind raced. _I should tell him about the message – let him read it and decide what to do. But…_ He schooled his features and looked at Bob. "This is the second time this week," he snapped as he deleted the text message.

"What is?"

"They've called a last-minute committee meeting. Is it really too much to ask that they give me a few minutes notice?" Charlie shook his head and smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid lunch will have to wait. I have to report to Professor Finch's office right away. I know you're supposed to keep an eye on me but I can assure you that Millie can scare the worst bad guys off without even breaking a sweat."

"That nice of a boss, huh?" Bob asked through his laughter. "You're right though, Charlie. I still need to accompany you."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the professor remarked as he stuffed his laptop into its case and threw the strap over his shoulder. "I need to make a stop at the little boy's room."

The agent followed him out of the office and down the hallway until Charlie pointed to the restroom door. Bob placed a hand on Charlie's arm and shook his head. "Let me check it out first." Charlie stepped back and waited until Bob had checked the three stalls in the small first floor bathroom. "Okay, you can go in now."

Charlie stepped through and glanced over his shoulder. "Um… do you mind waiting outside?"

"Why?" Bob inquired, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ the smaller man thought as he blushed and ducked his head. "I never liked to shower in the locker room, either."

"Oh," Bob said knowingly. "Sure, Charlie. I'll be right outside."

Once the agent let the door close behind him, Charlie moved to the window and forced the rusty hinges to move, thankful when they didn't creak too loudly. He stuck his head through the opening and gauged the distance to the ground. Confident he could make the short drop without hurting himself, he turned on the water and called, "Almost done, Bob."

"Take your time," the agent's muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door.

_I'm sorry for whatever my brother does to you,_ Charlie silently apologized. _But I can't believe that Don is right about Grayson. I have to give him a chance to explain things._ The professor sat on the ledge and swung his feet through the window. He took a deep breath and pushed himself forward, landing hard but steady on the ground. He slung his bag on his shoulder and took off through campus at a brisk trot, his mind replaying the short message over and over in his head.

_Professor. Need help – don't know what to do. Think you'd understand – brother problems. Off-campus meeting spot – just us. PLEASE COME._

_I'm coming, Grayson,_ Charlie silently chanted as he hopped onto a city bus.

He never saw the man who cautiously pursued him through campus to the bus stop, scowling when he failed to get on the bus after Charlie. Nor did he see when that same man pulled out a cell phone and made a quick call, his features lighting up in a dangerous smile.


	5. Chapter 5

"Finally," Don muttered as they pulled in front of the low-end apartment building that acted as Albert Jolly's office. "I was beginning to think we weren't going to find anyone today."

"Doesn't look like business is particularly booming," Coop remarked. "Might be a little easier to bribe some information out of him."

"_If_ he's seen Sammy."

"Or if he's heard anything around town. Come on, Eppes – where's that optimist I used to know?" Coop winked and exited the vehicle, leading the way as he and Don approached a young man in his mid-twenties wearing a Dodgers cap turned backwards on his shaved head. "Albert Jolly," Coop greeted with a nod.

"Don't know any 'Albert Jolly'," the young man shrugged.

"Really?" Don inquired. "That's funny because we have his mug shot right here…" He flashed a picture at the young man. "You must be his twin brother."

"Only child, _sir_," he shot back, sneering with the last word.

"We heard this is where he likes to hang out," Coop said as he sat on the step next to the young man. "You know – do his business."

Don glanced around at the deserted area. "If you can call this 'business'. Things seem pretty slow today."

"I imagine they'll stay that way with two FBI agents sitting on your stoop." Coop made a show of yawning and stretching as he leaned back to make himself comfortable. "Of course I could use a nice, slow, relaxing day. How about you?"

Don smiled and sat on the young man's other side. "Sounds great."

"Come on," the other man groaned. "You can't be doing this. Don't you need like probable cause or something?"

"To sit and wait for Mister Jolly?" Coop grinned. "Nah, we can take our time. Unless of course you know where we can find him."

The man between the agents scowled and flipped his hat around. "What you be wanting ol' Albert for?"

"Little Q and A session," Don replied.

"What's in it for Albert?"

Coop dug out his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. "A little civic appreciation."

"Then you going to get off my stoop?"

"Faster than you can say 'parole'," Coop promised.

The young man sighed and grabbed the bills out of the agent's hand. "So Mister Jolly's in now. What do you need to know?"

"Have you seen this guy around?" Coop asked as he held out a photo of Sammy Holloway.

Albert made a point of studying the mug shot before handing it back. "May look a little familiar. Not like I done no business with him though."

"Who has?"

"What am I, 4-1-1? How am I supposed to know?"

"Your stoop, your block, your business. If he was just passing through, whose neighborhood would be next?"

Jolly flipped his cap backwards again and shook his head. "I ain't saying I know nothing for sure, but I might have a suspicion or two."

Don and Coop waited while Albert studied the sidewalk. Don finally leaned in close and whispered "We got all day, remember?"

"This is harassment," Jolly spat, his eyes scanning the street before he spoke again. "And that better be what you say if anyone asks, okay?"

"Scout's honor," Coop vowed.

"A couple of blocks over there's a bunch of old crack houses," the young man said as he gestured down the street. "They've been raided so many times that most of the junkies have moved on. Anyway, there's this one guy who likes to deal from the biggest one over there. I keep telling him he's going to get busted but he's a stubborn fool."

"Name?" Don prodded.

"Jay, Joe… something like that. This guy you're looking for was making a bee-line for that place a couple of nights ago. Word was he was looking for weapons and ammo and a place to hide out."

"Is Jay-Joe in the office today?" Coop asked.

"I ain't seen him yet but he usually shows up when the sun starts to go down. Cockroaches are like that, you know." Albert cackled at his own joke.

"Takes one to know one," Coop retorted as he and Don stood up. "Thanks for your civic-mindedness, Mister Jolly."

As they walked away, Don glanced at his friend. "You want to check the place out or set up surveillance and wait until he shows?"

Coop checked his watch and then the waning afternoon sunlight. "Let's sit on it and wait. We'll surprise him as soon as he shows."

Don nodded as his cell rang. "Eppes."

"This is Watkins," a nervous voice said. "Your brother… Charlie… he…"

Don stopped walking as his heart seized in his chest. "He what?"

"He gave me the slip, sir."

"_He what?_"

"We were getting along just fine and then he got this text message about some staff meeting. I was going with him but he said he had to stop at the restroom. I checked it out – no one was inside – and he went in."

"Did he just vanish in front of your eyes?" Don demanded.

"He seemed embarrassed to have another guy in there so I told him I'd wait outside."

Don rolled his eyes and cursed the genius' cleverness. "So you left my brother unguarded? What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I was trying to be understanding, sir."

"That wasn't your job, Watkins!" Don took a deep breath and composed himself. "Are there any signs of a struggle?"

"No, and… well… I think your brother went of his own free will. I mean… I don't think anyone was with him. See, the bathroom window was locked from the inside – I made sure of that when I checked it out – and I was guarding the only door. Charlie opened the window and climbed out. There was only one set of shoeprints in the flowerbed under the window."

_Damn it, Charlie!_ Don growled silently. _I swear once I get you back safe and sound, **I'm** going to hurt you._ "I don't suppose you looked at this text message?" He took the other man's silence as a negative. "Put a trace on his cell. If he uses it again maybe we can get an idea of where he's headed."

"On it."

"Then round up all of the students that were in Charlie's class with Grayson Holloway. See if they have any idea where he might like to hang out or anywhere Charlie might have gone with him for off-campus study sessions."

"Yes sir."

Don angrily flipped his phone shut and looked at Coop.

"Charlie ran?" his old partner asked, a hint of 'I-told-you-so' in his voice.

"Don't start with me, Coop," Don warned as they reached the SUV. "Charlie didn't run off so he could aid and abet some fugitive and his brother."

"No, of course not. He probably had some top secret math conference-"

Don slammed his former partner against the side of the vehicle and leaned in until they were nose to nose. "Listen to me very carefully. My brother may have made a _boneheaded_ decision but I assure you it was in the best interest of helping out someone _he believes_ is a good kid. And that is the assumption that we are going to work with until we find out anything for certain. Are we clear?"

Coop shoved Don back a step, fighting back a wince at the twinge of pain in his shoulder. "As long as you realize that if Charlie _is_ helping them out, he's going to have to answer for it when we find him."

The two men eyed each other in silence and Don realized that he had changed a lot over the past few years. He'd learned to trust people – family, friends, his team – while Coop still had the old hunter mentality of trusting only himself. He found himself wishing that his old partner had never called him and dropped this little mess in his lap and that, once they were done with the hunt, Coop would never came back into his life.

"Let's just put this behind us for now and set up surveillance on the crack house," Don offered.

"You don't want your team looking for Charlie?"

"It's not that I think he's guilty of anything," Don hissed. "But he left of his own free will – he wasn't kidnapped and he hasn't done anything illegal. I can't very well authorize extra manpower to look for him, now can I?"

"But since Watkins was already assigned to watch your brother…" Coop thought aloud. Realizing his friend was trying to make what he thought was the right call – no matter how much Billy disagreed with it – he held out his hand as a peace offering. "Makes sense, Don."

The other man shook his hand and smiled faintly. "Let's go find Sammy so we can move on."

As the two men climbed into the SUV and disappeared down the street, Albert Jolly – who had been a witness to their argument – pulled out his cell and piece of paper with a number on it. Once he'd placed the call and relayed his information, he disconnected and grinned to himself. The money the Fed had given him was chump change in comparison to what he'd just earned with one phone call.

--

Charlie climbed off the bus and began the long walk to the deserted pier under which he and Grayson had spent so many afternoons going over various lessons. For a boy from the Midwest, Grayson had a love of the water the likes of which Charlie had never seen. He would watch in wonder as his student waded knee-deep in the ocean while reciting numerous theorems and thinking through problems out loud. He always seemed to remember the lessons better if he was actually in the water while studying. Charlie knew a lot of teachers would think he was crazy to go to such lengths for one student but he firmly believed that Grayson was a gifted young man, capable of wonderful things with a patient and understanding teacher.

Now though, as he approached the deserted pier in the waning light of the day, he wondered if he had made the right decision to come here alone. Charlie briefly thought of stopping where he was and calling Don to come help but the idea of his brother interrogating and possibly arresting his student made Charlie cringe. Although he didn't know all the details, he suspected Grayson's childhood hadn't been a picnic and he was reluctant to subject the young man to any treatment that might destroy their student-teacher bond. _No, I'll just talk to him first and see what's going on. Then I can call Don if the situation warrants._

Charlie took a deep breath and continued toward the abandoned pier, squinting against the shadowy area beneath the aging wood. He didn't see any sign of Grayson in their normal spot – the fourth support beam from the left – so he slowed his pace, his eyes scanning back and forth looking for any signs of his student's presence. He'd just stepped under the pier when he heard a rustling noise behind him followed by something cool and metallic pressing against his neck. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest, and slowly lifted his arms. "Grayson?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"You came alone? No one knows where you are?"

"Yes, alone. No, I didn't tell anyone where I was going." Charlie mentally kicked himself as the words left his mouth. _If he **does** want to hurt you, now he knows he's free to. No, stop it. Grayson's not like that. Of course he does have a gun pressed to your neck…_

"The safety's on," Grayson said as if he could read Charlie's thoughts. He lowered the weapon and patted the professor's shoulder. "I just… My life is screwed up, Professor. I could really use your help."

Charlie slowly turned around, shocked at the weary expression on the younger man's face. "My God, Grayson… You look terrible."

"Then I look a little better than I feel." He gestured to the weapon in his hand. "Sorry about that but I had to make sure you came alone. It's not safe out there."

"You're scared for your life?" Charlie inquired.

"Not mine – yours. My brother seems to think he can use you to get me to do what he wants."

"What?"

A loud sound above them on the pier drew Grayson's attention and he quickly raised the gun as he peered through the wooden planks. Charlie looked up too and saw the outline of an empty beer bottle as it rolled along the aged wood. "There's no one there."

"Not yet." Grayson stood up and grabbed Charlie's elbow. "Come on, I don't think it's safe here any more."

"Wait," the professor protested as he tried to yank his arm away. "We can call my brother. He can help us."

"No! He'll try to throw my brother back in prison!"

"He _is_ an escaped fugitive, Grayson."

The young man shook his head and tightened his grip on Charlie's arm. "No, I can't let him go back. I… I had a plan, you know."

"You helped him escape?"

"Of course not! Look – we need to go now. It's not safe here."

"Grayson," Charlie said in his firmest voice. "I'm not going anywhere until I call Don." His eyes widened as his student raised the gun, removed the safety and pointed it at his head. "What…?"

"I like you a lot, Professor. You've helped me more than anyone else ever has to make something of myself. But I _love_ my brother, no matter what he might have done. Like versus love – do the math."

Charlie again raised his hands in surrender and nodded. "Sure, Grayson. Whatever you say. We can go."

The young man reached out and grabbed Charlie's cell, tossing it several feet away into the sand. "Sorry, but I can't risk you calling someone or someone trying to trace your location." He relaxed his grip on the weapon and tugged on Charlie's elbow. "Come on, my ride's just up the hill."

--

Don slowly sipped his cup of coffee as he and Coop watched the crack house. He longed for the feel of caffeine racing through his system, keeping his mind and senses wide awake and on full alert, but he knew all too well the drawbacks of consuming too much coffee on a stakeout. Coop was nudging his hand with a cardboard box and Don almost laughed out loud when he saw the contents. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"God's perfect food," Coop told him. "Besides, we have a stereotype to live up to."

Don shook his head as he grabbed one of the doughnuts and took a large bite. He immediately frowned. "Good God, Coop. How long have you had those things?"

"Sell by…" he read aloud, suddenly frowning and tossing the box in the back. "Well, that's just a recommendation anyway."

Don spat the rest of the pastry out and glared at his old partner. "I don't know what's liable to get you first – an angry fugitive or food poisoning."

"I'll take the fugitive any day." Coop nodded as a beat up Ford Bronco pulled into the crack house's yard. "Speaking of…" A man whose features were concealed by a large sweatshirt jacket emerged from the old truck and stealthily slipped into the house.

"I see him." Don checked his weapon, making sure he had a round chambered and the safety was off. "How do you want to do this? Straight-up burst through the front door or one on the front and one on the back?"

"We could pretend to be buyers."

"He'll smell cop on us from a mile away."

"Maybe you," Coop countered. "I can pass. You can cover my six."

"Sounds too dangerous," Don argued. "Let's just both go through the front door. There's only one of him to two of us – we've got the numbers advantage."

Coop sighed and held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Front door it is." He awkwardly readied his weapon, his one shoulder hampering his abilities, and nodded to Don. "Let's go."

The two agents sprinted for the house, staying low and using small trees and overgrown shrubbery as cover, until they reached the front porch. Don climbed up the stairs first and crouched by the door as Coop made his way to the other side. Don peeked through the dimly lit window but could see no sign of the suspect. He gestured at Coop who looked through the window on his side of the door before dropping back down and nodding.

'Room to the right,' he mouthed to Don. 'Seated at a desk.'

The other agent signaled he would go high and Coop would stay low on three. When the redhead indicated he was ready, Don counted down on his fingers. When he lowered his last finger the two men kicked open the door and identified themselves. They did a cursory scan of the front area before homing in on the room with the desk. The suspect's profile was still visible and they quickly rushed into the room.

"FBI!" Don announced again, his adrenaline rushing as the figure in the chair didn't move. "Show me your hands!"

Coop crept around to the other side until he could see the face of the man in the chair. He looked up at Don and frowned. "This guy's dead."

"What the-"

A metallic canister flew into the room and before either man could react, it detonated with a loud boom and a blinding flash of light. Both agents hit the floor, stunned by the concussion wave and the overwhelming of their senses. Something heavy slammed into Don's head and he immediately lost consciousness.

Coop heard the noises coming from his friend's direction and tried to go to him but was halted by a swift kick to the ribs that left him winded and gasping in pain.

"I should kill you," an angry voice hissed in his ear. "But lucky for you I need you to deliver a message. Go back to your FBI friends and let them know that my brother had _nothing_ to do with my escape. He's innocent – so stop hounding him or else you'll never see your little friend here again."

"Don," Coop managed to rasp.

"Deliver the message, Agent Cooper."

A kick to the head sent stars dancing across Coop's vision and rendered his muscles useless. He could only lie and watch as Sammy Holloway gathered Don in a fireman's carry and fled from the house.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are we?" Charlie asked his student as he was ushered into a large, empty warehouse.

"Used to be a self-storage place a few years ago," Grayson answered as he shut and locked the main door behind them. "Went out of business and no one wanted to buy the building."

Charlie nodded to the padlock the younger man had just locked. "So you decided to squat here?"

"Not really squatting, but it _is_ a nice private place to spend time when I need to get away from it all."

"Like your brother?"

Grayson gave Charlie wry grin. "You never were very good at small talk."

"Even less so when someone I admire and expect a lot from pulls a gun on me." Charlie spotted a small, metal table with two folding chairs nearby and moved to sit in one. "Talk to me."

"It's my brother. He did something really stupid a few years ago-"

"Robbed a bank."

"Right." The younger man sighed. "Contrary to what the police thought, I really _wasn't_ in the car with them. I was at home playing video games." He grew silent and sagged into the other chair. "I still remember sitting there and gaping at Sammy as he burst into the house, bags of money in his hands. He and his friend were panicking because they thought the cops were going to be there any second. I guess they realized, after the fact, that they had been caught on camera. Sammy tossed me the bags and told me to go hide them somewhere where no one would think to look."

"And you did?" Charlie inquired.

"He was my big brother – I trusted him. I bolted out of the house and found a place to stash the money. When I got home the cops had already arrested Sammy and his friend and taken them away. The next time I saw him was a couple of days before his trial. He told me no matter what to keep my mouth shut – that he would take care of everything and make sure they left me alone." Grayson began drumming his fingers on the table as he shook his head. "He told me to keep the money stashed, too. Said when he got out we'd take it and make a life for ourselves somewhere. Only…"

"You're not like him," Charlie finished. "You didn't want to get your hands dirty."

"Yeah, something like that."

"You knew he was going to get out of jail eventually, though. What were you planning on doing then?"

Grayson blushed and stared at the table. "It sounds stupid, especially now."

"Tell me," Charlie encouraged. "Please."

"I was always pretty good in school and math was my best subject. I figured I could get an education, get settled in to a well-paying job and support Sammy when he got out until we could find him a job doing something he enjoyed. Then maybe he wouldn't feel like he needed to rob banks or do any of that other crap he used to do."

"And you'd have had plenty of time to carry out your plan because he got a ten-year sentence."

"Even with time off for good behavior I could have been ready. But now…" He looked up at his professor, his eyes desperate and pleading. "I don't know what to do."

"He needs to finish his sentence if you want that clean start."

Grayson stood up and began pacing. "No! I won't turn him in if that's what you're suggesting. They'll add years for his escape. I can't do that to him."

"You _didn't_ do this to him – he did it to himself when he chose to escape."

"His friend was murdered in prison," the younger man argued. "He was terrified! Wouldn't you have been?"

"Yes, of course. But he still chose to escape." Charlie paused and studied his student. "You're not thinking of helping him are you?"

"I don't know."

"Grayson," Charlie said reasonably. "If you help him – go on the run with him or turn over that money – you'll be throwing your life away. You can't do that."

"He's my brother," the student whispered as he sank back into his chair. He stared at Charlie and asked, "What would you do if _your_ brother was in trouble?" When the professor remained silent, he nodded. "That's what I thought. Besides… there's another reason I was thinking of helping him."

"Which is?"

"He wants me and the money so we can go start a new life. I'm willing to go with him but I don't want to use that money… it just seems so wrong. But he wants it really bad, and while he would never hurt me…"

"He'd hurt someone you cared about," Charlie finished, his voice wavering. "Like me."

"You got it. And I won't let him do that, Professor."

"So you're going to give him the money?"

"It's not that simple."

Charlie frowned and reached out to place his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Keep talking."

"I… I really, _really_ didn't want anything to do with that money. After Sammy went to prison it ate at me night and day, knowing that money was out there and I was the only one who knew about it. It felt so wrong so I… I did something to clear my conscience – to try and pay a penance of sorts for Sammy."

"What did you do?"

"I split it in three and donated it to different charities." He looked up and shrugged. "The money's been gone for years."

"Oh, Grayson," Charlie whispered. "That was a nice gesture on your part. Sammy doesn't understand why you did it?"

"He doesn't believe that I did it at all. He's convinced that I'm refusing to turn it over because I want him living clean. I wrote him so many letters while he was in prison about how I would take care of him when he got out… he's positive that's why I won't turn over the money." Grayson sighed and started drumming his fingers again. "That's why he threatened you – he thought I'd cave into his demands to keep you safe. And I _would_…"

"Except you can't."

"Right. And I have no idea what to do but that's why I brought you here – Sammy knows where I live, go to school, work… but he doesn't know about this place. I can keep you safe here."

"Safer than the agent watching over me at campus? Safer than my brother?"

"Okay… so maybe I didn't think this all the way through, but I really _was_ trying to watch out for you."

Charlie leaned back in his seat, folded his arms across his chest and gave his student a hard look. "We need to go to my brother with this. He can help."

"I already told you that I'm not sending my brother back to jail. I just need to keep you here until I can convince him that the money's really gone. Once I do that, I'll go with him and you'll be safe."

"Grayson-"

"Save it, Professor. We're not going to see your brother." The two men both jumped as Grayson's cell rang. "Hello," he answered.

Charlie watched the younger man's face change from surprise to frustration to flat-out fear.

"Sammy… no," he whispered. "I already told you – Sammy!" He lowered the phone and frowned at the screen.

"What is it?" Charlie demanded.

"He… he knows I took you."

"And? Does he know where we are?"

"He's not going after you anymore."

Charlie was puzzled by the anguished look on his student's face. "That's good news… right?"

"He… he's still using you to try to get to me, though."

"Grayson, you're not making sense."

The younger man looked at his professor, then slowly turned the phone to where Charlie could see the display.

"Oh my God," Charlie breathed. There on the screen was an image of his brother lying on his side with his hands cuffed behind him, his eyes closed and blood covering the side of his face. "Don…"

"He says if I don't bring him the money tonight, he'll kill him." Grayson took a shaky breath and fixed Charlie with an expectant look. "I don't know what to do."

Charlie shook his head as despair threatened to crush his heart. "I don't know either."

--

Don wasn't sure what woke him first – the pounding throb in his skull or the aching muscles in his shoulders or the sharp bite of metal imprisoning his wrists – but whatever it was, he hurt. He bit back a groan as he dragged his eyes open despite the strong desire he had to let himself drift back to unconsciousness and the blissful ignorance of his discomfort. _What happened? The house… Coop and I – Coop!_ Don struggled to sit up and search his surroundings but the pounding in his head increased, forcing him to lie still to keep from becoming sick. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths as he waited for the pain to subside. Once it had reached a bearable level, Don cracked his eyes open and – without moving his head – let his gaze travel around the part of the room he could see. He was concerned when he realized he seemed to be alone but also relieved to find that wherever he was, his captor had been decent enough not put him in a brightly lit room where he was certain the throbbing in his head would have increased exponentially.

_Exponentially?_ he wondered to himself. _Good lord, I'm starting to sound like Charlie._ His eyes widened in the dim light of the room as his heart rate sped up. _Charlie!_ Don started to sit up and quickly froze as he remembered his last attempt. Instead he scanned the room again, looking for any sign of his brother, Sammy or Grayson but saw only fuzzy shadows in the dim light. _I guess I am alone. Only one way to find out for sure, I suppose…_

"Hello?" Don frowned as he heard the rough sound of his voice. I guess I've been out for a while. He coughed weakly and tried to summon moisture into his mouth. "Anyone here? Coop? Charlie?" He grew quiet and strained to hear any sound around him but there was nothing to be heard. He was about to give up when he heard a soft click followed by a faint whoosh of air as a door opened nearby. Judging by the breeze that brushed over his bound form, Don determined someone had entered the room somewhere behind him. "Hello?"

"Shut up," a low voice growled as someone approached him. "If you don't, I'll gag you."

"Sammy?"

"I always knew you Feds were real smart," the voice sneered. "How long did it take you to figure that out?"

"Where's my partner?" Don demanded.

"None of your concern. Now shut up."

The agent would not be dissuaded. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Sammy drew closer to Don and crouched beside him as he hissed "Let's just say he's better off than you are."

Not sure whether he should be relived that his friend was okay or worried that he himself might not be much longer, Don frowned. "Why did you take me?"

"You don't need to know that," Sammy said, his voice growing fainter as he walked away from Don.

Desperate to keep his captor nearby and talking so that he might figure a way out of his situation, Don scrambled for words. "Your brother… he didn't bring you the money, did he?"

"He will."

"He'll be aiding and abetting a fugitive when he does. Are you willing to do that to him?"

Loud, angry footsteps rushed back toward Don just before a foot slammed into his lower back. "Don't you ever make a comment like that again. I _love_ my brother. I take care of him!"

"By making him hide your loot for you? If the police had managed to find that money he'd have gone to jail just like you."

"I wouldn't have let that happen."

"But you will now?" Don inquired. "He'll be hunted down just like you."

"Leave him out of this," Sammy angrily hissed. "I only need you alive for a few more hours. You keep making me mad and I promise your death won't be pretty."

_A few more hours?_ Don wondered. His stomach knotted as he started to put the pieces together. _No…_ "Grayson wouldn't bring you the money."

"Sometimes he can be such a choirboy. I keep telling him how well we can live in Mexico but he's so stubborn. He doesn't want to 'live like that'."

"You had to think of a way to convince him." _Oh God, no…_

"His desire to protect those he cares about is playing into my hands very well. He won't turn in his own brother and-"

"He won't let you hurt someone he cares about. Like his math professor."

"I sure did underestimate Gray this time. I threatened that math geek's life and I'll be damned if Gray didn't swoop in and hide him away from me." Sammy let out a cold laugh. "I think he underestimated me a little, too. Didn't expect me to go after the math geek's brother but here we are."

"I won't help you lure them here," Don growled.

"You already did, Fed. I sent Gray a picture of you on his cell. You look quite the fright, you know? Blood all over the side of your head. Heck, if I didn't know better I might have thought you were dead or close to it." He let out another laugh as he moved away from Don. "I bet your brother almost had a heart attack when he saw you. It'll only be a matter of time now."

_No,_ Don prayed. _For God's sake, Charlie, you were right about Grayson and I wasn't. Please use that common sense and don't come here because of me._ Even as the thought raced through Don's head, he knew Charlie would come to try to save him… just like he would gladly do if their roles were reversed. "So what's the plan? You kill both of us in front of Grayson and then he willingly goes on the run with you? Sounds pretty thin to me."

"Are you kidding? Gray would never go for that." Sammy walked back to Don's side and crouched down behind him. "That's why he's going to think I took you and your brother to an old van out back, tied you up in there and then called for help once we were a few miles down the road. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Don gasped as Sammy wrenched his head back and shoved a rag in his mouth, quickly wrapping several layers of tape around the agent's head to keep him quiet and then pounding his injured head into the ground. Don moaned against the pain, the noise all but silenced by the rag and layers of tape, as bright spots danced across his darkening vision. Sammy chuckled mirthlessly as he watched the agent fight to stay conscious. "We'll keep that plan our little secret, okay?"

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, the darkness pulled Don under. His last conscious thought was to pray that Charlie never found him.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. RL got a little crazy. The updates should be back to a couple of times a week. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

"I said no, Professor."

Charlie bit back a frustrated sigh and struggled to keep his voice calm. "Grayson, we _have_ to go to the FBI. Your brother has crossed so many lines and kidnapping Don, hurting him… that has to be it. He's out of control."

"_No,"_ the younger man shot back. "He's scared. Deep down inside he's terrified of going back to prison. All I have to do is talk to him, convince him that the money is really gone and then I can agree to go away with him. He'll let your brother go for sure."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You don't know him like I do." Grayson eyed Charlie and cocked his head. "What if it was _your_ brother on the run? You're honestly telling me you wouldn't do everything in your power to help him? Because I find that very hard to believe."

"I know what it's like to be scared for your older brother, I really do. And I understand the desire to help him, Grayson. But in this particular case it would be more helpful if we called the authorities and sent him back to prison." The younger man grew angry and Charlie quickly waved his hands to cut him off. "Listen to me – if he goes back he _will_ have to do extra time, but look at how much good behavior he'd earned before he ran. He could still be out before he's too old and you'd have plenty of time to get settled into your life so you could work on helping him with his. You know I'm right."

The student shook his head as he paced along the wall of the storage building. "No. Sometimes… sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your family. Do you know how many bullies Sammy pried off of me when I was a kid? I've owed him so much for all of these years."

Charlie swallowed back a sudden feeling of remorse as Grayson's words triggered his own childhood memories. Don had always looked out for him, too, no matter what the cost to himself. And sacrifices… he suspected Don really knew the meaning of that word no matter how many times he insisted his childhood hadn't been that bad.

"No, Professor. We're going to see Sammy – just the two of us. I'll talk to him and we'll get your brother out of this."

"You have such a promising future, Grayson. I don't want to see you throw it away."

"I'm not throwing it away – I'm helping my brother."

Charlie decided to try one last time. "We can help Sammy – _and_ Don – by calling the FBI. They can get Don out safely…" he choked on the word as his brother's bloody image flashed in his mind, "… and Sammy, too. Please, Grayson."

"No. We go together, Professor." He smiled weakly and patted Charlie's shoulder. "I won't let him hurt you or your brother any more." As he opened his mouth to protest, Grayson sighed and waved the gun in his direction. "You know… I'm not really asking."

Charlie finally let out the sigh he'd been holding back. "Right." _I tried, Don, I really did. I just hope this works out better than I think it's going to._

--

_I really have to stop waking up like this,_ Don groaned to himself as consciousness returned with a vengeance. On the bright side, he was less aware of the minor discomfort in his arms and cramped muscles. Of course that was because the ache in his head had become so bad that everything else in the world – sight and sound included – was drowned out by the angry throbbing in his skull. He concentrated, trying to remember what was going on. He and Coop… Sammy got the drop on them and took him… _What else was there? _Something urgent, something he should really be concerned about. As the memories danced tantalizingly out of reach, Don instinctively shook his head to clear the fog and soon found himself pressing his face against the cool surface of the cement floor, praying he wouldn't pass out again. _Dumb, stupid move, Eppes. Head wounds and moving do __not__ mix._

After an eternity he felt relatively confident he could remain awake and slowly peeled his eyes open. A dark, dismal blur greeted him and despite his best efforts he couldn't make out anything in his vicinity. He started to call out for help, frowning at the foul taste in his mouth. _What the…?_ A vague memory of Sammy wrenching his head back him drifted out of the depths of his hazy mind and Don worked his jaw, wincing when the tape sealing the rag inside his mouth tugged at his skin. _Right, he gagged me. Why, though? There was a reason. He said… what?_

Don growled in frustration as his memory refused to cooperate. _Okay, forget that. I need to focus on how to get out of this. Let's see… I'm handcuffed, disoriented, gagged and being held captive God knows where, apparently all by myself._ He clenched his fists and yanked at the cuffs, a pointless effort, he knew, but there was always a chance his kidnapper had used a pair made of rusted, brittle metal. _Now you're __really__ grasping at straws,_ he chided mentally. He slowly craned his head to look around the room but had to stop several times to combat the nausea that hovered on the horizon, knowing that throwing up into a gag with no one around to hear or help would be a fatal mistake. Once he'd confirmed the fact he was, indeed, alone, Don laid his head back on the cool floor and tried to get his sluggish mind to work.

After a few moments of attempting to string together a coherent plan, Don had to admit defeat. The head injury was wreaking havoc on his cognitive thinking and-

_Oh my God – Charlie! He said he was luring Grayson and Charlie here!_ That sudden memory – and the fear that accompanied it – sped up Don's heart rate and he renewed his struggles against the metal encircling his wrists. _No… I can't let him get Charlie. I have to do something._ Realizing that escaping from the handcuffs was a futile effort, Don decided he should try and stand up so he could examine the room and any opportunities for escape more closely. Taking a few deep breaths, he painfully rolled over onto his stomach and wriggled his knees beneath him.

_Doing good, Eppes. Now, slowly – up…_ Pressing his forehead to the floor, Don levered his torso off of his knees and managed to convince his head to stay attached to his body and follow suit. After agonizingly slow progress he was kneeling on the floor, panting heavily and swaying back and forth unsteadily. _Not too bad for a guy with a head wound. Now let's see what you're __really__ made of. One leg up…_ The injured agent moved his left foot out from underneath him and leaned his weight forward, making sure the limb would support him. Confident in his findings, Don started to push up but quickly stopped when he heard a noise behind him. He swung his head around and closed his eyes against the vertigo that assaulted him, but not before he made out a large silhouette bearing down on him.

"My, my… aren't we a resourceful little agent?"

Even over the roar in his ears Don recognized Sammy's voice and his heart sank. There was no way he could take the fugitive in his state and the knowledge that his weakness might lead to his brother's harm brought tears to Don's eyes. In a last-ditch effort to save Charlie, Don pleaded into his gag and frowned as Sammy laughed at his unintelligible mumble and then moved toward the agent, shoving him hard onto his back. Don's head connected with the concrete loud enough to echo in the open room and he blinked furiously, trying to clear the stars from his vision.

"You know," Sammy said as he dragged Don further into the darkened room. "At this rate you may not last long enough to see your brother again." The fugitive stopped as he reached the far wall, shoving Don to lie on his stomach and yanking his arms up until the agent screamed into the gag, certain his shoulders had been ripped from their sockets. The pressure eased fractionally as Sammy let go and stepped back to study him carefully. "That ought to keep you in place until our visitors arrive. It really would be a shame for you to miss the chance to tell your brother goodbye." Sammy gave a cheery wave, humming to himself as he left the agent alone in the dark.

Don cautiously lifted his head and peered behind him as far as he dared before the movement made the ache in his arms intensify. From his awkward angle he could just make out some sort of hook or bent nail in the wall over which Sammy had draped the chain between his handcuffs. Although he was grateful to be lying down – otherwise his shoulders would no doubt be dislocated – he knew that even whole and healthy, standing up to remove the chain and free his arms would have been a daunting task. In his current condition it would be impossible. Charlie was probably on his way and that thought gave Don the will to try despite the slim chance of success. He valiantly struggled against his restraints until a combination of fatigue and pain finally wore him down, pulling him into a blissful respite from his personal hell.

--

Charlie nervously watched the scenery pass by as Grayson piloted the car along a desolate pothole-filled road. Maybe 'scenery' wasn't the right word for the landscape they traveled through – full of condemned old houses, overgrown lots and a couple of small, run-down warehouses that sat vacant, seemingly inviting anyone and everyone with an appetite for trouble and illegal enterprise. Much to Charlie's surprise, he and Grayson seemed to be the only two people for miles – excluding the numerous corpses he was certain were concealed in the overgrown lots – except for Don and Sammy who were hopefully hidden away somewhere nearby, both alive and well.

Charlie glanced over at Grayson and sighed as he saw the fierce look of determination on his face. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to call his student's bluff and call Don's team to conduct an organized and likely more successful rescue of his older brother. He was almost positive Grayson wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. _Too late now, _he thought bitterly. _No way I can jump out of the car when we're going this fast. Besides, if I did that there's no telling what would happen to Don when Grayson finds Sammy. No – I'm definitely along for the ride at this point._

Charlie closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool glass, issuing up another silent prayer that everyone would make it out of this situation and live to tell the tale. He harbored no warm feelings toward Sammy, obviously, but he _did_ care for his student and knew Grayson would be distraught if anything happened to the older Holloway, so Charlie had made sure to include him in every prayer he'd uttered in the last two hours.

"It looks worse than it is."

The professor was drawn from his thoughts by Grayson's voice. "What does?"

"Your brother's injury. Head wounds bleed a lot, you know."

"Yes, but how _long_ has Don been bleeding? Has it stopped? Is there any serious brain injury to go along with that blood? I'm sorry, Grayson, but I won't relax until I see him."

"Of course not," the student agreed in an understanding voice. "I was just trying to point out the bright side."

_Weird definition of 'bright side'._ Charlie chose to keep that thought to himself. "How much longer?"

"I've never actually been out here before," Grayson admitted. "But from the directions he gave me… maybe another five minutes? Not too long at all."

_Unless you're lying in a pool of your own blood…_ Charlie shivered as his brother's bloody image rose up from the back of his mind. He shook his head to clear it and focused on the road ahead. "Grayson, you know I'm very fond of you and trust you a great deal…"

"Right."

"So don't take this the wrong way, but – how do you _know_ Sammy will let us go?"

"He wants two things, Professor. The money from the robbery and me. He'll be getting one of those things and I can explain how the other isn't a possibility." Grayson looked away from the road long enough to smile at Charlie. "It'll be okay."

_Young and hopeful,_ Charlie thought sadly. _And naïve as can be._ "You'll need money to get… wherever."

"Mexico, most likely."

"You have enough money?"

"I have a savings account with a little in it."

Charlie sighed. "You realize the FBI has probably frozen that account? Especially if they know Don's been kidnapped?"

"We'll figure something out," the student shot back testily. "I told you, I'm not letting him go back to jail."

"What if he tells you he wants to rob another bank to get funded? Or a convenience store? What then, Grayson?"

"What do you care? You'll have your brother back by then."

"Don is important to me – more important than anything else – but I care about you, too."

"You have to make a choice, Professor," Grayson replied, looking like he'd aged twenty years since Charlie first saw him at the pier. "You want to take care of me or your brother?"

"Grayson-"

"Your brother," he quickly cut him off. "You worry about him. Me? I'm willing to give up what I want to help Sammy." He glanced at Charlie and shrugged. "Don't tell me you didn't know growing up that one day you might have to make a sacrifice to pay your big brother back for everything he did for you."

"I guess I knew it could be a possibility," Charlie agreed. "But a sacrifice as big as the one you're making? I don't know about that."

Grayson gave him one last smile as he brought the car to a stop. "And I hope you never do." He pointed at a building just visible through the trees. "That's it."

"Why stop all the way back here?" When Grayson didn't answer, Charlie frowned. "You don't trust him to let us go, do you?"

"I believe in taking precautions."

"No, Grayson," the genius argued. "We have to call the FBI. If _you_ don't even trust him then we have no business being here by ourselves."

"No FBI," the younger man stated. "We do this ourselves. Now just follow me and do exactly what I do. With any luck, we'll find your brother and you two will be long gone before I have to break the bad news to Sammy."

"Grayson-"

"No arguments, Professor." He pulled the gun from his waistband and gestured to the passenger-side door. "Let's go."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_I'd kill for a bottle of aspirin right now._ Don groggily blinked his eyes in a battle of wills to keep them open. He finally managed to convince them to stay at half-mast – a small victory, but anything that gave him confidence was a good thing because nothing else was looking promising. The throbbing in his head had reached astronomical proportions, his hands and arms had long since lost all feeling and he could feel a tickling down the side of his face, telling him that his head wound was still seeping blood. There was also the little matter that Coop could be dead and Charlie might soon join him.

_Next time Coop comes to town and asks for my help I think I may have to tell him where to shove it._ Don laughed bitterly, the weak sound echoing slightly in his cavernous prison. _Like there's going to be a next time at this rate._ Tears formed behind his drooping eyelids and Don clenched his eyes shut. To succumb to such thoughts was to give up – and Don Eppes never gave up. At least that's what he started chanting to himself as he struggled to open his eyes again. After a few minutes he let out a despondent groan, his head sagging against the cool concrete floor. _No use, _he sighed to himself. _There's no way for me to escape. Oh God, Charlie, please don't come here. Of course you will, though, so please be careful. Dad will never survive if he loses both of us._

A rustling noise grabbed Don's attention. He painfully craned his neck to peer through the darkness behind him but saw nothing except blurry shadows. Squinting, he held his breath and listened for more sounds, only to be rewarded with silence. _Head wound must be getting to me. Maybe if I close my eyes for a little while I'll be able to concentrate when I wake up. Yeah, just for a little bit…_

As the injured agent slipped from grogginess into unconsciousness, it mercifully didn't occur to him that he might never wake up again.

--

Charlie couldn't help but glance over his shoulder every few seconds as Grayson confidently led the way into the old, abandoned industrial building. His student might be certain that Sammy wasn't expecting them but Charlie had his doubts. And then there was the matter of the fugitive letting them go with a smile and a wave even with Grayson agreeing to flee with him. Charlie just didn't see that as a probable outcome but he followed his student in the hopes that they would find Don alive. Once that was accomplished Charlie would set about formulating his own plan to get them to safety, whether or not Grayson liked it.

"You gotta stay really quiet now," Grayson whispered as he stopped walking. "I'm pretty sure Sammy isn't with your brother and that I can find him before Sammy finds us, but any noise will get us caught. You got that, Professor?"

Charlie swallowed nervously and nodded. He frowned as he pondered his student's last words. _Pretty sure he isn't with him? Thinks he can find Don? Has he been here before? Or in a similar situation?_ He started to open his mouth but quickly clamped it shut as Grayson shook his head. _I guess I'll have to ask him later…. assuming there __is__ a later._

He focused on the younger man's back as Grayson led Charlie deeper and deeper into the building. The professor tried to slow the pounding of his heart and his breathing, certain the sounds had to be loud enough to draw Sammy's attention. He was so wrapped up in his efforts that he almost ran smack into Grayson's back, not realizing the other man had stopped. Grayson looked over his shoulder and nodded, a bitter, sad version of a half-smile on his face. The student cocked his head and Charlie leaned around him, peering into a large, dark, open area. As his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light Charlie's heart froze. There, along the wall no more than ten or twenty feet ahead, lay his brother. He started to rush forward, stopping only when Grayson grabbed his arm.

'Let me check it out,' Grayson mouthed silently. Despite his overwhelming desire to run to Don's side, Charlie saw the wisdom in the younger man's words and reluctantly nodded.

Charlie held his breath as Grayson crept forward, his eyes scanning all around him as searched for any sign of Sammy. He was suddenly struck by how adept Grayson seemed to be at this – entering a building with a great deal of stealth while keeping a handgun readied at his side – and found himself wondering if his student really was the innocent, good kid he had thought he was. Charlie pushed the thought from his mind – he needed to focus on Don right now – as Grayson reached the door across the room and made sure the coast was clear. The student turned toward Charlie and gestured. Charlie was off like a shot, running as fast as possible without making too much noise. It still seemed to take far too long to reach his injured brother's side.

"Don," he called softly as he placed his fingers against his brother's neck. _Thank God – a pulse. _"Don, can you hear me?" He frowned as the injured man remained unresponsive, lightly stroking his bloody temple as he checked the wound. His fingers brushed over a jagged tear and swollen lump, the action finally eliciting a noise from his brother. "Don," he whispered as loudly as he dared with Sammy's whereabouts unknown. "Open your eyes for me."

"You need to speed things up, Professor."

Charlie looked up at Grayson and shook his head. "He's not waking up." He lifted the handcuff chain off of the hook in the wall and gently lowered Don's arms before rolling him onto his side. "Help me get him out of here."

"No."

Charlie had already eased his brother upright against the wall. Whipping his head around, he asked, "What?"

"You came here for your brother but I came here for _mine_." Grayson shrugged under Charlie's wounded gaze. "I don't intend to let Sammy hurt you two any more… but I don't intend to leave here without him, either. Which means you'd best get your brother out of here before I move on."

"Grayson-"

"This isn't up for debate," the younger man cut him off. "You have about three minutes before I walk out of here."

"Where do I go?"

Grayson tossed the car keys to him, causing Charlie to wince at the loud jingling noise they made. "Back to the car. You can take him to a hospital."

"And you?"

Grayson gave the professor another sad smile. "Sammy's my ride now." Seeing the determined look in Charlie's eyes, he shook his head. "Go, Professor. I can't promise to keep you safe if Sammy were to walk in right now. Get out of here and take your brother home."

Charlie swallowed nervously as he focused on Don's face, lightly slapping the cheek that wasn't covered in blood. "Don! Come on, bro – you've got to wake up for me." With a frustrated sigh he abandoned the attempt, opting instead to grab him under the arms and haul him to his feet. Charlie marveled at how easy the task seemed – _adrenaline,_ he thought – but soon found himself leaning against the wall with Don sandwiched between his arms as he panted for air. He glanced over his shoulder at Grayson who made no move to help and Charlie found himself, not for the first time, regretting that he'd ever responded to that text message.

"One minute," his student calmly announced.

Charlie studied his brother and tried to figure out the best way for them to proceed. He knew he could never haul Don's dead weight all the way to the car so he took a deep breath and slapped his brother as hard as he could across his uninjured cheek, immensely relieved when the other man's eyelids fluttered to half-mast. "Don!"

The agent mumbled unintelligibly as he struggled to focus on his brother.

"Listen, bro," Charlie whispered as he lightly patted Don's cheek. "I'm going to slide my arm under yours and help you walk, okay? I know it's going to hurt like crazy with your arms cuffed behind you but we have to get out of here _right now_."

Don made a movement that might have been a nod.

"Good," Charlie praised as he carefully adjusted his grip. "Let's go." He took a step forward and had to hang on tight to keep Don on his feet. "Concentrate, Don." He took another step, prepared for his brother's unsteadiness and quickly countered as Don listed to one side. The more they moved the better Charlie became at anticipating which direction the injured man would likely topple. They reached the doorway through which he and Grayson had entered and he heard his student's quiet voice.

"Bye, Professor. Thanks for all you did for me."

Charlie looked over his shoulder but Grayson was gone, disappeared from the doorway and his life forever.

--

"Come on."

Desperation in the anxious voice pierced the fog of pain clouding Don's mind, pulling him up from the depths of his stupor. _I know that voice…_

"We have to move, Don."

_No, Charlie,_ he thought as his stomach threatened to revolt against the rough, unpredictable jarring. _Moving is bad. Definitely bad._

"You're doing good, bro, but we have to move faster."

_Lay off, Charlie. It's not like we're late for school or something._

"Don, _please_."

He hadn't heard _that_ tone in years, not since the last time Charlie had been terrified of a school bully and sought his big brother's protection. _Hate to tell you, Buddy, but I doubt I could fend a fifth grader off of you right now. Maybe if we rest a minute…_

"No!" A sharp yank on his bound arms elicited a grunt of pain from Don, leaving him panting for breath and wondering when Charlie had become a sadist. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." A shaky hand awkwardly patted his shoulder – an apology of sorts from the younger man. "It's just… we can't stop now, Don. We have to keep moving."

The agent tried to tell him it was okay – that he forgave him – but he couldn't get enough air in his lungs to vocalize the words.

"Shh," Charlie soothed as he gently tugged Don to get him moving again. "We'll rest as soon as we can."

The injured man nodded – okay, his head lolled forward – and he tried to get his leaden limbs to cooperate with him as his brother picked up the pace. He had no idea why Charlie was so frantic for them to keep moving but he vaguely remembered that something pretty bad had happened to him. _If I could just remember what it was…_

After a few moments Don could feel a change in the air as it rushed by his face and the previous echoing sounds of their movements faded away. _Outside,_ his sluggish mind deduced. The realization seemed to drive home the fact that it was chilly and wet and he couldn't suppress a sudden shiver.

"I'll get you warmed up soon," Charlie told him. "Not much further now."

Don bit back a moan as his stomach twisted and he knew he wouldn't be able to swallow this wave of sickness down. Even as his brother's muttered 'Damn' echoed in his ears, Don felt himself being lowered to his knees. A gentle arm wrapped around his midsection and a cool hand braced his forehead. Grateful beyond words, he let himself sag into Charlie's strong grip as he emptied the contents of his stomach. He grew weaker and weaker as each spasm wracked his frame, increasing the throbbing in his head until he wished he could pass out to escape the pain.

"Stay with me, Don."

_I'm trying, Buddy._ A loud roaring sound began to grow around him, drowning out his brother's pleading voice. Without thinking, Don shook his head to clear it and immediately gasped at the sharp stabbing pain that lanced through his skull.

"Don?" Charlie called, his panicked voice sounding a million miles away. "Don, no… stay with me. _Don!"_

Despite his best efforts to obey his brother's command, the agent slumped in the younger man's grip and let the world around him fade away.

--

Charlie breathed an enormous sigh of relief at the pulse that beat under his fingertips. _Just passed out,_ he thought. _Not dead._ "Don't scare me like that, Don," he whispered to the unconscious man in his arms.

He looked up and squinted through the rain that was falling heavier by the minute and frowned as he saw how far away the clump of trees that concealed Grayson's car was. _I'll never be able to drag Don that far. And I'm not leaving him here to go get the car – not while Sammy may still be on the loose._ He silently studied his surroundings and tried to come up with a game plan. Knowing it wouldn't work for long, Charlie decided his only option was to try and drag Don to the car.

Charlie carefully turned his brother onto his back and slid his hands under Don's arms. Offering up a quick prayer that the other men was out of it enough not to feel too much pain, Charlie lifted Don up and began pulling him over the thickening mud. His progress was agonizingly slow and his muscles screamed in protest at dragging his brother's dead weight but Charlie kept at it, deathly afraid that Sammy would emerge from the building at any minute, intent on killing them despite whatever argument Grayson presented. His curly hair became plastered to his head as the rain steadily fell, blinding him to the rock half-buried in the ground next to Don's ankle. As the injured man's heel snagged on it, the sudden jerking motion threw Charlie off-balance and sent him tumbling into the mud. He quickly scrambled to his feet and grabbed hold of Don again before resuming his torturous journey to the hidden vehicle.

At least an inch of rain and a handful of pulled muscles later, Charlie found himself leaning against the car and trying to catch his breath. He held Don propped against his side as he dug into his pocket for the keys… and found nothing.

"No!" he exclaimed in frustration as he clawed at his other pockets only to get the same result. _I know Grayson gave them to me and I put them in my pocket. Where in the world…?_ His face fell as it hit him – the mud. They must have dropped when he fell. He peered through the trees at the path through which they'd come and knew any kind of search would be a lost cause. Besides, now that he had Don back he was reluctant to leave his side even for a second, terrified some new harm might come to him.

_Like he's safe just sitting out in the open, in the pouring rain, waiting for someone to find us,_ Charlie thought angrily. _The car would be the first place someone would think to look. I have to find us a place to hide._ Charlie scrutinized the area around them before deciding that the clump of trees was his best hope. Gritting his teeth he hauled Don's limp form away from the vehicle and into the relative shelter of the mini-forest. He glanced around until he found the driest section of ground and sat, hugging Don's soaked form against his chest.

Charlie quietly studied his brother's face in the gloom of the evening and hoped the head injury was nowhere near as bad as it looked. He suspected Don's inability to walk very well or stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time meant that it was pretty serious, however. Carefully, Charlie lifted the hem of his wet tee-shirt and wiped at the blood as though that could wipe away the severity of Don's injury, too. Soon all that remained visible was the jagged cut and swollen lump just next to his brother's hairline, but Charlie didn't really feel any better as he realized how pale Don's complexion was. _Had he really lost that much blood?_

"I'm sorry, Don," Charlie whispered as he held his brother close, leaning over to shield him from the rain. "I should have stayed out of this like you told me to, but… I really thought Grayson was a good kid." He blinked back tears as his brother remained unnaturally still. "He told me he just wanted to help his big brother and all I could think… when you said you were joining the FBI… God, Don… I let my emotions, _my_ memories cloud my judgment." Don suddenly shivered and Charlie drew him closer, vigorously rubbing a hand along his upper arm to generate warmth. "You can't leave me, Don. I screwed up and I'm sorry. I… I got here as fast as I could."

A gunshot shattered the evening air, followed closely by another, and Charlie's heart froze in his chest. "No," he breathed, unconsciously shaking his head. "Grayson…" Had Sammy just shot his own brother? Had he threatened Grayson and caused the younger man to fire back in self-defense? _No, I don't think he would ever shoot his big brother._ Charlie looked down at Don and frowned. _No, because I could never shoot mine, even if it __was__ to save myself. Oh God, that means Sammy must have…_

"No," he repeated, his voice echoing in the damp evening air. _Quiet! If Sammy __did__ shoot him and is now looking for us…_ Charlie willed his breathing to slow down and tried to convince himself that it really wasn't as loud as it seemed. He became aware of whispering rustles and soft splashes as the rain fell through the leaves overhead and onto the forest floor around them. _Too much noise,_ he worried. _How am I going to be able to hear him if he comes for us?_

Something rustled behind him and Charlie whipped his head around to find… nothing. _The rain?_ He didn't think so – this noise had been louder, more defined than raindrops… _Hadn't it?_ He strained to listen as his eyes darted back and forth, but could hear no other sounds. Charlie slowly turned back toward the building and resumed his surveillance. Seconds later he heard yet another noise. Charlie tried desperately to identify the sound and its source. _Footsteps in the mud?_ He couldn't be sure, but it seemed to come from the direction of the car. Again, the professor craned his neck to look – and again there was nothing. _You're going to drive yourself crazy,_ he scolded mentally as he tried to get his heart rate down out of the realm of light speed.

A quiet mumble drew his attention downward and he saw Don's eyelids fluttering. His lax body tensed as he tried to shift in the younger man's arms. "Hush, Don," Charlie whispered, afraid the muttering might draw attention to their hiding spot. "We have to keep quiet." Don stilled and Charlie held his brother even closer. _Please stay asleep,_ Charlie begged soundlessly, torn between wanting Don to recover from his injury and his own fear at being discovered.

The squishing noise came again, sounding much closer than before. Charlie swallowed nervously as he turned his head, immediately freezing at the sight of a pair of boots in the mud before him. _No, God no…_ He kept his gaze fixed on the boots, afraid to identify the wearer.

"Professor."

Charlie closed his eyes, gripping his brother tightly as he fought back tears. He'd never been so relieved to hear Billy Cooper's voice.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Waiting was always the hardest part. Waiting to hear the doctor's diagnosis on Don, waiting for his dad to arrive, waiting to confront Coop about his claims that he'd had to kill Grayson in self-defense…

Charlie buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply as he slumped in the less-than-comfortable chair of the ER waiting room. His mind was reeling, swirling with chaotic thoughts and whispers of guilt that he was simply too tired to sort out. Was it his fault that Don had gotten hurt? His initial thought was yes but then other things would pop into his head that turned what should have been a black and white issue into a foggy mess of gray areas. Was it his fault that Grayson had gotten shot? Could he have done anything else to prevent the situation and still save Don? Again, the answers were hidden in shades of gray and would stay that way until he was able to pump more details from his brother's old partner. Charlie suddenly let out a frustrated growl in the sparsely populated waiting room, ignoring the odd looks he got from the other two occupants.

He glanced at his watch and wondered what could possibly be taking Megan so long to pick up his father. He'd called her right after he and Coop had uncuffed Don's hands, loaded him into Coop's SUV and started speeding to the hospital. Although he'd wanted to be the one to give Dad the bad news – that should always come from family, in his opinion. He'd known the older man would have taken off in his own vehicle whether he'd been composed enough to drive or not. So, after he'd relayed the gist of what had happened and where they were headed, he'd relented and asked Megan to notify and pick up his father all at once.

Charlie sighed again and began drumming his fingers on his thigh. He tried not to count the passing seconds as the wait dragged on. As much as he didn't want to – as much as he wanted to forget everything that had happened – his mind drifted back to the awful trip to the hospital.

"_How's he doing?" Coop's voice drifted from the front seat as his eyes remained glued on the road ahead of them._

_Charlie frowned at Don's still form as he lightly brushed his short hair away from the vicious-looking cut. "He's still out." The vehicle suddenly veered to the right and Charlie had to tighten his grip to keep his brother from flying out of his arms. "Careful," he pleaded as he looked up at the back of Coop's head._

"_Sorry, Professor, but this really isn't a road so much as a partial clearing in the wilderness."_

"_Right," the younger man acknowledged, returning his attention to the injured man in his lap. "Hang in there, bro." After several moments of deafening silence, Charlie sneaked a peek back at the redhead. "You really killed Grayson?"_

"_Like I told you," Coop replied defensively. "He was going to shoot me."_

"_But Grayson… I'm sure he would never-"_

"_He did."_

_Charlie winced at the hardness in the agent's voice and told himself he should stop pursuing the subject – after all, Coop had appeared out of nowhere to rescue him and Don. Giving him the third degree hardly seemed like the best way to repay him, and yet Charlie found himself speaking again. "Are you sure he was aiming at you? Not just in shock about Sammy?"_

"_For the last time," Coop growled, the anger in his voice very clear. "Holloway was going to shoot me so I shot him first. Then his brother aimed at me and I had to shoot him in self-defense."_

"_It's just…"_

"_What would you do if someone killed Don in front of you?"_

_He subconsciously tightened his hold on the injured man and frowned at Coop. "I… what kind of question is that?"_

"_One that I think we both know the answer to." Coop sighed and shook his head. "Forget it, Professor. How about you just keep an eye on your brother until we get to the hospital?"_

_Charlie rode the rest of the way in silence, save for the occasional soft assurances he whispered to his brother. Between utterances, Billy's question kept popping into his head and Charlie found himself thinking the unthinkable. What __would__ he do if someone killed Don in front of him?_

A doctor entered the waiting room, drawing Charlie's thoughts back to the present. He perched on the edge of his chair as he watched the doctor's movements and it took every ounce of willpower not to shed a tear as the physician approached one of the room's other occupants, leaving him to continue worrying about Don's wellbeing. As the doctor escorted the other person to the closed ER doors, Charlie slumped in his chair, amazed that something as deceivingly simple as waiting could sap so much energy.

"Charlie!"

His heart soared at the sound of his father's voice, renewing his strength. "Dad," he greeted as the older man enveloped him in a tight embrace.

"Are you okay, son?"

"I'm fine," Charlie assured his father.

"I find that hard to believe," Alan replied as he sat next to his son and studied his weary appearance. "How's Donny?"

"Still waiting," Charlie whispered sadly.

"Do you know what happened?"

The professor's eyes widened as he looked questioningly at Megan, who stood behind his father.

"I thought you'd want to tell him," she informed him.

"Oh… right."

"Where's Agent Cooper?" Megan asked. It had suddenly dawned on her that he wasn't in the room.

"He went back to the scene to help out."

"Oh? I'll go see if I can get in touch with him. Maybe get us some coffee or something, too."

"Not very subtle, that one," Alan observed as they watched her disappear through the doorway.

_And you'd know all about subtlety,_ Charlie thought with a small smile. He quickly sobered as he realized he was going to have to tell his father everything that happened, knowing the older man would not enjoy the tale. He took a deep breath and began to tell his story, starting with his hasty decision to meet his student and going all the way through finding and rescuing Don. He made a point of relaying what he'd managed to glean from Coop – how Don's old partner had paid a little visit to some snitch who had set them up and 'convinced' him to rat out Holloway. Once he had the information, Coop had put in a call to Don's team and then raced to the location on his own, where he'd dealt with the Holloway brothers before finding the Eppes brothers hiding nearby. Charlie offered up a prayer of thanks when a doctor finally emerged from the ER with news about Don, saving him from any questions his father might have had.

--

Don's return to awareness was much less painful than before. Instead of lying on cold concrete with his arms wrenched upward behind him, he discovered he was lying on his back with warm, inviting softness cradling his body. The smell of antiseptic assaulted his senses and he quickly put two and two together – _hospital_. Though he deplored the idea of being at the mercy of a medical staff, he realized that he was still feeling relief. _Why? Something bad had happened…_ He concentrated really hard, trying to remember…

_Sammy Holloway!_ He'd been captured by the fugitive and… it was gone. His memory went blank on him and Don, though his eyes were still closed, scowled in frustration.

"Don?"

_Charlie?_ The agent struggled to open his eyes but they were being distinctly uncooperative. He cursed his body's refusal to obey his commands and his expression of displeasure intensified.

"Don, are you okay?"

There was a slightly frantic edge to Charlie's voice now that stirred up some memories from the gloom of his mind. _Something about moving faster… being late to school? No, that doesn't make any sense. What…? Mud…_ He could smell it, feel it seeping up around his knees… practically taste it in his mouth. That and… sickness? _I was sick, that's right…_

"Can you hear me, Don? Say something, bro."

_Oh crap,_ Don thought. _I'm scaring him._ _Better do what he asks._ He concentrated really hard, took as deep of a breath as he could manage and tried to form one word, two little syllables to ease his brother's anxiety. He faintly heard a mumbled exhalation that he hoped wasn't his voice, but Charlie's tension seemed to fade away.

"Thank God." A hand slipped into his and held on for dear life. "You really had me worried, you know."

_That makes one of us,_ Don thought, tamping down a surge of frustration at his faulty memory. _How about you tell me what's going on? How'd I get…_

"Don!"

The injured man barely registered his name as the memories came rushing back, threatening to drown him with their intensity. _Oh, God… Charlie… Charlie had been there!_ Don swallowed deeply, thankful for the soothing hand that had taken up residence on his brow. _But he was here and talking so he had to be okay… right?_

"..'Kay?"

Charlie laughed nervously. "Me or you?"

_You know damn well who I'm talking about,_ Don silently chastised. His anger gave him the edge he needed to get his eyelids to cooperate and soon the room and his little brother's face, although blurry, swam into view. He tried to give Charlie his best 'stern big brother' look but suspected the usual effect was severely hampered by the fact that he was lying on his back, weak as a kitten. "You," he managed to rasp.

"I'm peachy," the professor said with something in his voice that Don was too off-kilter to identify.

"…Truth."

"I'm sorry, Don." The remorse in his voice was sincere and Don felt him give his hand an apologetic squeeze. "I'm physically fine – not a scratch on me. I'll admit it's going to take a while to get over seeing you… thinking you were…" He heard his brother's voice falter and suspected he was trying to remain composed. "We're both going to be fine," Charlie finally offered and Don wondered who he was trying to convince more.

"Gray-son?" The two syllables took a lot out of him but Don knew how much Charlie cared about his student and felt it was important that he ask.

"He made his choice and now he has to live…"

Charlie's voice gave out and Don waited for his brother to continue. When he didn't, he made a mental note to broach the subject when he was feeling stronger. "Dad?"

"He's here," Charlie assured him. "He went for a walk to get some air. We've spent every second at your bedside until the doctor was able to promise us you would be okay. I finally convinced him to get out of here for a while. "

_Every second? How long have I been here?_

"Easy, Don. I didn't mean for that to sound like it did. They kept you here overnight. It's lunchtime the day after you were rescued."

"…Psychic," Don whispered with a faint smile on his face.

"Nah, you're just easy to read."

Another memory bubbled to the surface and Don's heart froze. "Coop?"

"Calm down," Charlie crooned as he rubbed his brother's shoulder. "He's fine. He's helping to finish up the case report or something. He should be by later."

Again, there was that _something_ in Charlie's voice. "What… is it?"

"Just… really relieved that you're going to be okay."

Don didn't buy it for a second and squinted as he tried to make his younger brother's face come into focus.

"If you're tired you should rest," the professor observed, mistaking Don's actions for him trying to fend off sleep. "I'm not going anywhere."

Don wanted to stay awake and get Charlie talking but he knew he'd have a better chance of that when he was rested up and feeling stronger. After all, getting his little brother to spill his guts was never an easy task. Always rewarding, but never easy.

"Sleep, Don."

He nodded slightly and let his eyes close only to hear another familiar voice calling from the distance.

"Is he awake?"

"He was."

"Is," he mumbled as he heard his father's footsteps approach the bed.

"Not for long," Charlie chuckled as Don fought to open his eyes again.

"It's okay, Donny," Alan soothed. A gentle hand was in his hair, smoothing the strands while skirting the bandaged area near his temple. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Reassured by his family's presence, Don allowed himself to drift off to a much-needed sleep.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie smiled as he passed various orderlies, nurses and patients in the hallway. He was in a wonderful mood for such an early hour of the morning – and why not? After keeping Don one more night for observation, the doctor had declared him fit enough to go home, albeit not to his apartment and still with orders to rest and take it easy. It would be difficult for them to keep Don resting but any challenge beat the past three days of worry and waiting to see if his brother would fully recover. He stepped onto the elevator and politely asked the elderly woman inside to press the button for the fourth floor. The cab jerked into motion and Charlie braced himself against the wall to keep from spilling his father's coffee or his orange juice.

He smiled patiently as his fellow passenger got off on the third floor, waving good-bye and wishing him luck with his day. He returned the smile and watched her hobble along the hallway until the elevator doors slid shut and took him to the next floor where his father and brother were no doubt eagerly awaiting his arrival. Alan, because he came bearing his father's morning coffee and Don because he knew Charlie was his ride out of 'the joint', as Don had taken to calling it.

As a faint ding sounded, the doors opened and the professor made his way past the nurse's station, hanging a right down a short hallway. As he reached the end he started to turn left, knowing his brother's door was only a few feet past the turn, but froze as he heard two hushed, angry and very familiar voices bickering back and forth. He slowly peered around the bend in the hallway and frowned when he saw Coop and his father standing practically nose to nose, neither man willing to give ground to the other.

"He's _my friend_," Coop was angrily stating. "I have a right to see him."

"He's _my son_," Alan shot back. "And I don't think he needs to see the likes of you right now."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're no good for him, _Agent_ Cooper. Never have been and never will be. Why can't you just leave him be?"

"I'm his friend," Coop repeated. "I've saved his butt on several occasions in the past… this time, too."

"Charlie told me about that and I _am_ grateful that you were there."

Coop raised an eyebrow as Alan let the words hang in the air. "But not grateful enough to let me see him?"

"Look, I'm sure you're a nice enough young man but bad things happen to my son when he's around you."

"I didn't do this to him."

"No?" Alan challenged. "I suppose my son randomly decided to go after a fugitive even though he's been out of fugitive recovery for years?"

Coop sighed and shook his head. "Of course not, but he would have gotten involved because your _other_ son was going to get dragged into this one way or the other."

"From what I've figured out, if you had just talked to Charlie in the first place you could have wrapped everything up nice and neat a few days ago." Alan drew himself up to his fullest height and took a step into Coop's personal space as he growled, "Then my youngest son wouldn't have had to witness his big brother in such an awful state because Don never would have been hurt."

Charlie watched in awe as his father's protective nature of both him and Don asserted itself and, much to the younger man's amazement, even made tough-as-nails Billy Cooper back up a step. _I'm glad I'm his son,_ Charlie thought with a proud smile. _I sure wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that look._

Don's old friend sighed quietly and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I know you've never cared for me and I've always figured it had to do with Don's fugitive recovery days. I know he didn't keep in touch as much as you would have liked back then and I know a couple of times he was hurt badly enough to give you and his mother quite a scare but that wasn't my doing. And I'm telling you – I would _never_ hurt Don or willingly allow harm to come to him."

"Willingly, no," Alan agreed, though his posture didn't relax in the least. "But it still happens. Please understand, Agent Cooper… _Billy_… Don has a good life now – one he enjoys with his family and friends. He's ready to put roots down and having you show up and stir up trouble in his life isn't going to help him accomplish that. Twice in three years you've shown up and both times Don's been physically hurt to some degree but also mentally thrown into a tailspin. If you really are his friend – which I think you are – you'll let him be from now on."

"He's learned a lot from you, Mister Eppes." Coop gave the older man a slight smile as a look of surprise formed on Alan's face. "We did some talking and catching up… he told me he was 'growing up'. He sounded so wise and certain of himself and now, after talking to you, I can see how he got that way."

"Thank you," Alan nodded grudgingly. "It's always nice to hear that my children might _actually_ listen to me once in a while."

"I'll respect your wishes, Mister Eppes, mainly because I think they're the same as Don's. But I do think I deserve the right to tell him goodbye."

Alan crossed his arms and studied the agent. "I guess I can agree to that. I'll be waiting right here."

"Thank you." Coop moved to step around Alan, pausing when the old man spoke once again.

"I know I didn't say it in so many words but thank you for saving both of my sons' lives."

The redhead just nodded and disappeared into Don's room.

--

"Look at you, you lazy bum."

Don dragged his eyes open and gave his old friend a lazy smile. "What can I say? I needed a vacation."

"Well if you had to get hit somewhere, that rock hard head of yours was the right choice."

"You come to kick a guy when he's down?"

"I came to say thank you and to apologize."

Don's eyebrows shot skyward. "Billy Cooper using the 'a-word'? Should I be calling for Auntie Em?"

"Can it, Dorothy – I'm serious." Coop perched on the edge of the recliner and studied his old friend. "You and me – we made a hell of a team back in the day."

"That we did," Don agreed, sensing he knew what was coming.

"I even trained you well enough that some fool went out and gave you your own team."

"Yeah," Don said with an exaggerated eye roll. "I learned everything from you. What not to do, at least."

Coop snorted and shook his head. "With friends like you…"

"Yeah, yeah." He cocked his head and gave the redhead a serious look. "You come to say good-bye?"

"I'm afraid so."

Both men regarded each other with a mixture of affection, acceptance and sorrow as they came to a silent understanding.

"I'm going to miss you, Coop. It's not always fun but it is always a pleasure."

"Don't go getting all mushy on me, Donny-boy."

"Don't flatter yourself – it's the pain meds talking."

Coop flashed a boyish grin. "Sure it is." He stood and walked to his friend's bedside, held out his hand and shared a firm handshake with the injured man. "You make sure that team of yours watches out for you."

"They always do."

"Okay, but if they slip up… well, you just give me a call."

"Will do." Don let go of his old partner's hand and watched as he headed for the door. Just as he was about to open it and slip out of his life, Don called out. "Hey, Coop."

The other man turned around and gave him a questioning look.

"Charlie… he meant well."

"I know."

"He's got an incredible sense of loyalty to the people he cares about."

"I saw that firsthand when I found him with you."

The comment caught Don off-guard and he struggled to compose himself. "He really thought Grayson was a good kid. This is going to tear him up."

Coop stared at Don for a full minute before giving a slight shrug. "You know how to protect him."

Don chewed his lip thoughtfully. "McDowd… on the roof…"

Coop nodded as he remembered his suggestion that they drop him off the side of the building. "_You never change," _he quoted Don's words from that incident.

"Grayson… he really pulled a gun on you?"

The redhead gave his old friend an intense look, one that despite their years of friendship Don couldn't interpret. "Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe Grayson Holloway was a good kid with bad brother."

Don scowled and shook his head in frustration. "I need to know, Coop."

"There's only one thing you need to know, Don, and it has nothing to do with what happened to that kid." Don stared at him, silently prodding him to continue. "You have a father and brother who care for you very much and would do anything to protect you – that's the only thing that matters, got it?"

Don felt a wave of gratitude wash over him as he realized the meaning behind his friend's words and what he was giving him permission to do. "Take care of yourself, Coop."

"I always do." With those words, Billy walked out of Don's room and left his friend to his new life.

--

When Billy Cooper emerged from Don's room a few minutes later, Charlie was still watching from around the corner. He saw Alan give the agent a final nod before disappearing inside. Cooper began walking down the hallway toward Charlie, who took a deep breath and waited until the agent had almost reached him before stepping around the corner and feigning surprise at running into him.

"Hey, uh…" It occurred to Charlie that he'd never had to address Don's old partner by name and he suddenly fumbled over what to call him. 'Coop' was his brother's name for him, 'Billy' seemed too personal and 'Agent Cooper' sounded too formal.

"What is it, Professor?"

_Formal it is._ "I wanted to say thank you, Agent Cooper. My brother and I owe you our lives."

"You're the one that got him out of the building, not me."

"Yeah, but there's no telling how long we would have sat in those trees waiting for help to arrive."

Coop smiled warmly. "Until you felt safe to move. Don't underestimate your instincts, Professor. They seem to serve you very well."

"Are we talking about my brother or my student now?"

The agent's expression became unreadable. "I don't know what you mean."

Charlie paused only a second before blurting out in a rush of air, "I don't believe Grayson would have ever shot anyone."

"Is that right?" Coop challenged. "Say, you never did answer the question I asked you on the way to the hospital."

"It's completely irrelevant to this situation."

"Is it?"

Truth be told, Charlie didn't know what he would do if he actually were in a situation where he had to kill to save Don. He wanted to think he could do it, but to take another human life… the whole question was unthinkable. Charlie decided to switch tactics. "Please, Agent Cooper. I need to know what happened. If… if I was mistaken in trusting my student… If I'm the reason Don almost got killed."

"You're not responsible for what happened to Don," the redhead replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. "As for your student, I've told you what happened but if you don't believe me… you have a high security clearance, right?"

The professor nodded.

"Then access the case file. My official report is in there."

_But is it the truth?_ Charlie wondered silently.

"Look, right now you should be with your brother. You need him almost as much as he needs you and your father."

"What about you?"

The agent frowned in confusion. "What about me?"

Charlie realized he'd come dangerously close to letting the agent know he'd been eavesdropping on his conversation with Alan. "I mean," he said, trying to think of a way to play it off. "Are you going to stick around a while and visit? I know Don doesn't get to see you too often."

"I don't think your father would like that very much. Besides, I've got other fugitives to track down."

"Oh," Charlie nodded distractedly.

Coop surprised him by placing a hand on his shoulder and prodding him in the direction of Don's room. "Go to your brother. You might be surprised by how much good it does _both_ of you."

As Charlie puzzled over his statement, Billy Cooper gave him a slight wave and disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he walked to his brother's room and slipped inside.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm fine, Dad," Don said, summoning up every last bit of patience he possessed. It was the tenth time in the past hour that his father had asked him. He'd lost count of how many times in the just over twenty-four hours since he'd arrived home at his brother's house from the hospital.

"You're sure?"

_Patience, Eppes. He's only nagging because he cares._ "I don't need my pills – I promise I would ask if I did." Don pointedly ignored his father's skeptical look. "Seriously, I appreciate the concern but all I want to do is watch the rest of the game in peace." _Oh crap,_ he thought as his father's face fell. "Dad, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, Donny," Alan shook his head and forced a smile to his face. "I understand. I do tend to hover and I'm sorry. I just…" Don's heart almost broke at the look of despair on the older man's face. "I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

"What am I?" Charlie asked as he appeared through the front door and tossed his keys on the table. "The expendable one?"

Alan rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "I swear," he said with a genuine smile. "You two made me gray before my time."

"Uh huh, sure," Don pounced on the opportunity to smooth things over with his father. "We've only been planning it since Charlie was old enough to add two plus two."

"I believe it." He glanced at his watch and then at Charlie. "I need to go see Stan for a quick meeting and then run to the store. Are you going to be home for a while?"

"Go on, Dad. I'm home for the evening."

"I don't need a babysitter," an unhappy Don informed the two men.

Alan looked at his oldest and smiled patiently. "No one said you did. Now, do you need anything while I'm out?"

"Since you're going to the store-"

"Yes, I'm buying steaks and no, I'm not restocking the beer supply. Anything else?"

Don glared at Charlie who was laughing at his expense. "Take him with you?"

Alan looked at his youngest and then winked at Don. "Not a chance." Before Charlie could protest, Alan was through the front door, calling out a faint good-bye over his shoulder.

"Our father," Charlie shook his head as he closed and locked the front door.

"Performing his stand up routine at the Casa de Eppes on a nightly basis."

"Amen." Charlie moved to join Don on the couch, taking a moment to study his features. "You okay, bro? You look tired."

Don sighed and let his head sag against the cushions. "Yes, I'm fine and don't you dare ask me if I need my pills."

Charlie bit back a grin. "I see you and Dad had fun today."

Don playfully scowled and lightly punched Charlie's knee. "I could have used you at home to run interference today. You're supposed to look out for your brother, you know."

"I know," the younger man replied softly, all trace of humor vanished from his voice. "I'm sorry, Don."

"Hey," Don said as he leaned toward his brother and studied his face. "I was kidding, Buddy."

Charlie looked up, startled, and quickly shrugged. "Right." He moved to get up from the couch, stopping only when Don grabbed his arm and tugged him back to sit.

"What's wrong, Charlie?"

"What isn't?"

Don frowned, his mind racing as he tried to figure out the reason for his brother's sudden change in mood. _All I said was 'You're supposed to look out for…'_ Don bit back a gasp. _Oh God…_ "Charlie… look at me."

The young genius refused to obey.

"Please, Buddy." The agent placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "We need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about."

"Really?"

"I'm fine," Charlie insisted as he shrugged his brother's hand from his shoulder.

"Could have fooled me."

"Like I haven't done that before." _Ouch,_ Don thought as he recoiled in shock. _That's a little low._ Apparently Charlie had the same thought. "I'm so sorry, Don. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"What is it, Charlie? Please talk to me."

"You don't… I can't tell you."

"Try me."

"I betrayed you."

Don's eyebrows shot skyward and he had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping open. "Come again?"

"You heard me."

"You've never betrayed me – ever."

"You told me to call you if Grayson contacted me and I didn't. Not only that, but I went off to meet him. That's the ultimate betrayal."

"God, Charlie… for a genius you sure are having a dumb moment." Pleased that his words had the intended effect – Charlie casting him an angry look – Don continued. "Yeah, you should have called me and yeah, going to see Grayson was one of the most boneheaded things you've ever done, but Buddy… it's not a betrayal, not by a long shot."

"I violated your trust."

Don sighed and reluctantly nodded. "You did and I wish you hadn't. But betrayal? Never. Betrayal would have been telling Grayson to forget about me or leaving me behind when I passed out on you. Charlie, not only did you not betray me, you risked your own life to save me."

"Is that really how you see it?"

"It's the way it is."

"You're not mad at me?"

Don shrugged and frowned. "I was at first, but then you showed up and saved my life. Besides, deep down I knew you'd be there for your students. You're always there for them, no matter what."

Charlie gave his brother a long, hard look and Don realized he'd let too much emotion show in his last sentence. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Of course it's not."

The professor's eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Forget it."

"Hey, I talked to you. It's your turn to return the favor, bro."

"It's not important."

"Bull."

Don glared at his younger brother before allowing a slight smile to creep onto his face. "I remember a time when you respected me enough that you wouldn't ever speak to me like that."

"I respect you more now – which is why I'm calling your bluff."

"It was a long time ago."

"Then it should be easy to talk about."

"It'll just stir up old, uncomfortable memories."

"Then stir away. It's the only way we can smooth them over and move on."

Don sighed and shook his head. "Stubborn little thing aren't you?"

"I prefer 'tenacious'."

"Fine." The older man took a deep breath and forced himself to look Charlie in the eye. "There were times, after I'd joined the Bureau, that I would come visit or write Mom and Dad a letter and they would brag about you. I was used to that, but they were really proud of how dedicated you were to your students. Heck, _I_ was proud whenever I came home and saw it for myself – you always were a hell of a teacher."

"But…" Charlie prodded when Don stopped speaking.

"I… I never remember you being that way with me. I'm your brother and I could never think of a time when you showed that much dedication and belief in me. I guess I was…"

"Jealous?"

Don nodded. "Yeah."

"I know the feeling."

"What?" the agent asked in shock.

"The first time you came home to visit after you got partnered with Coop – you brought him with you."

"I remember."

"All I could think of the whole time you two were here was how much like brothers you acted. Playing around, teasing each other, talking about women and sports, drinking beer… My God, Don, that's what _I _wanted from you when we were growing up. To be that close to you, to learn all the stuff a guy should learn from his awesome big brother, only I never got that. I was jealous, too."

"Oh man. I'm sorry, Buddy. I never realized that."

"I guess we can both be pretty dense, huh?" Charlie chuckled.

Don grinned back. "Must be an Eppes gene."

"The important thing, I think, is that we understand now. Coop's gone and Grayson's…" the younger man paused as he composed himself. "He's gone, too. But we still have each other."

"Count on it." Don reached over and impulsively pulled his younger brother into a hug. After a moment of silence he whispered, "I _am_ sorry about Grayson."

"Don't be," Charlie responded as he carefully pulled away from his brother's embrace. "I made the bad judgment call, not you."

"He was a good kid."

"Right," the professor snorted. "That's why he tried to kill an FBI agent."

Don chewed on his bottom lip as he remembered what Coop had suggested to him in the hospital. Deciding that there was only one way to heal Charlie's spirit, Don silently thanked his old partner and began, "Did I ever tell you about Coop and I in fugitive recovery?"

"You've always been kind of tight-lipped about those days."

"They aren't a lot of fun to remember," Don admitted. "The work was grueling and the people we dealt with – both fugitives and non-fugitives – weren't the most upstanding individuals. Anyway, Coop was always good at it – had a fire that drove him to succeed. Sometimes that fire burned a little too hot."

"How do you mean?"

"Do you remember McDowd?"

"That animal that was after a witness? Almost killed her and you? Yeah, I won't forget him anytime soon." 

"When we caught up with him we were on a rooftop. We'd already incapacitated him and I was putting cuffs on him." Dan paused for a second as guilt over ratting out his friend warred with the desire to help his brother. Charlie's well-being won out. "He suggested we drop him off the side of the building. That way Karen would never have to worry about him again."

"He was kidding," Charlie said uncertainly.

"No, he wasn't. I've never sat by while he's killed anyone, but back in the day I _did_ witness him become 'overly persuasive' with some reluctant witnesses."

"Don, you should have reported-"

"No," Don cut him off, giving him an intense look. "No, I shouldn't and didn't. And you can't either after I tell you this."

"What?" The professor grew pale as it dawned on him. "Grayson?"

"You have to take this as my word to you, not anything to be repeated ever again. What's in his report stands as the official record despite anything I'm telling you as your friend… as your _brother_."

"Okay."

"Coop was doing everything in his power to find me after I'd been abducted and he was taking it personal. I'm not just his old partner but I'm his old friend, too. When he found the warehouse and I wasn't in there, he assumed Holloway had hurt me badly if not killed me. He asked where I was and Holloway laughed it off. Coop's temper got the best of him… Holloway didn't stand a chance." Don didn't really know all the details of course, but Coop had made it clear before he left that Don could sacrifice his reputation to help Charlie. It was an act of selflessness that made Don regret their parting of ways even more.

"And Grayson?" Charlie nervously inquired, drawing Don's thoughts back to the present.

"Coop had no way of knowing Grayson was trying to help you rescue me. He made a snap decision."

"And shot an innocent young man?"

Don raised an eyebrow. "'Innocent' may be too strong a word for Grayson. But I _did_ want you to know about Coop."

"Why? He's your old partner and friend. Why would you tell me something like that about him?"

"Because your judgment of your students is sound. And because I don't want to see you hurting. And… for the same reason you accompanied your student into a dangerous situation."

"Because we're brothers."

"Yes. That means more to me than my friendship with Coop."

"And more to me than my relationship with my students." Charlie smiled sadly. "That's why Grayson was willing to run away with Sammy even if it meant he was ruining his own life. He was doing what he thought was best to save his big brother's life."

"Like how you risked your life for mine."

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "But there was more than that to it."

"Oh?" Don asked, sensing anything more might make the younger man clam up.

"When you first told us you were joining the FBI, I thought that was wonderful. I knew you'd be so good at it." Charlie met his brother's gaze and Don could see the obvious pride in his brown eyes along with something else… regret? "Then, the first time you got shot, I freaked. I thought if I could make a nice, comfortable living for myself, I could get you to come home and help you get settled into something less dangerous."

"Aww, Buddy," Don breathed. "I'm sorry – I didn't realize, but… You _do_ know that this is who I am, right?"

"I do now. It took a while, but I finally understand." He met the older man's eyes again and gave a heartfelt smile. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

The agent gave in to the moment and gently embraced his little brother for a second time, fully appreciating how much communication was taking place between them and how much stronger their bond was growing. Sensing they were both exhausted from the seriousness of the conversation and could benefit from a lighter mood, Don pulled back, squeezed Charlie's shoulder and gave him an amused grin. "So what kind of 'less dangerous' activities are we talking about?"

"I dunno," he shrugged as a spark of life flared in his eyes. "Maybe one of those 'rent-a-cops' that patrols a wealthy subdivision?"

Don let loud a loud laugh and shook his head. "That's even more dangerous, Buddy. I'd be dead by now for sure."

"How do you figure?"

"Are you kidding? Dogs pooping on sidewalks, people letting their grass grow too tall or painting their house an unacceptable color… After one week of that I'd have died of boredom."

The End


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